GTA V: In The Air Tonight
by Charalampidis Gruber
Summary: After the Union Depository job, Trevor Philips finds there's something missing from his life. When Earline shows up in Sandy Shores, Trevor gets caught up in a mystery that will threaten everything he holds dear.
1. Another Day In Paradise

_Author's Note: _

_My last fanfiction was inspired by a piece of artwork and this one was inspired by a song. From the title, it's pretty obvious which song it was too. My last fanfiction was written in the first person, which is not something I normally do. But I liked the whole stream of consciousness feel it had, so I wanted to do that again for this one. I wanted to tell the story through two different perspectives too._

_After I wrote the last chapter, for my previous fanfiction, I decided I wanted to explore Trevor in a family dynamic a bit and a little less heavy on the romance but, being the sap I am it's in this one too. I'm hoping to keep the tone of this on the lighter side too. Let's see how that works out for me though._

* * *

His tattoo clad hand jerks with the ferocity of a tiger as the veins in his wrist bulge. The hairs on the back of his neck start to rise and his heart hammers in his broad chest. Sweat drips down his strong brow as moans of pleasure escape from his thick pink lips. He braces himself against the wall with his free hand. He digs his fingernails into the piss stained wallpaper of the cramped bathroom. The rosy flush of arousal clings to his scarred face. He tilts his balding head back as he feels the divine sensation of his self induced climax rising up within him. He hears Wade's voice calling his name from outside the trailer. He's so close to finishing that he doesn't care.

Trevor's right on the edge. Just let him have this one fucking thing and then he'll address whatever pathetic fucking issue the sad little worm is trying to bring to his attention. He can feel it starting to slip away from him though. The sound of Wade's voice is just too much of a fucking turn off for him to cling on to this. God fucking damn it. Trevor's cock starts to go limp in his hand despite his desperate attempts to hang on to his arousal. Whatever Wade needs better be fucking important or else he's going to castrate that useless fuck for interrupting his private time.

Trevor Philips has been slowly going insane from the boredom he's been plagued by lately. Admittedly, things had gotten rather exciting there for a while. It was the greatest ride of his life and now it was fucking over. Jesus fucking Christ was he bored. Michael was too busy trying to be a good father. What a pile of shit. That pussy ass shit was enough to make Trevor vomit right here all over his cock. He couldn't fucking deny it though, Michael seemed a lot happier now that he was fucking investing time with his whiney fucking family. If that wasn't bad enough, it seemed like Franklin didn't have time for him anymore either.

It was always obvious to him that Franklin and Michael shared a special bond. 'Special' as in he suspected they might be giving it to each other up the ass when Amanda wasn't around. Franklin was a good kid though. He was a little rough around the edges when Trevor first met him but, shit, they got him whipped into tip top fucking shape. If Trevor ever needed a getaway driver again, Franklin was going to be the first fucking person he called. But for being such a good driver, Franklin couldn't bother to make the drive out to Sandy fucking Shores.

So he might be dealing with some fucking separation anxiety. Trevor's a man with lots of needs and lately, they hadn't exactly been fucking met. So he's jerking off into his toilet to the memory of the Union Depository. How can he have pulled off the greatest score of all time and be reduced to this? He didn't understand how Michael could be satisfied sitting on his fat ass all day sipping on fruity cocktails by the pool. Trevor needed excitement. He needed to be working all the time and feel that blessed fucking thrill. The problem was he had been fucking working lately. He'd been working a lot but, something still felt wrong.

Trevor has a legitimate fucking business to run and it takes up a good fucking chunk of his time. He spent years pouring everything he had into making a name for himself out here in Sandy Shores. He was damn fucking proud of everything he'd accomplished. Trevor Philips Industries was his fucking baby. He used to be able to lay his head down at night with a deep fucking sense of satisfaction. Now he had this nagging fucking feeling in his gut that he just couldn't shake. He felt like he was missing something. Trevor didn't fucking understand it but it was fucking there. Every goddamn day it was there just like a rash on his dick.

Trevor slams his fist into the wall out of frustration. He steps away from his abysmal toilet and shouts at Wade to get the ratty headed fuck to stop pounding on the door. As he zips up his fly, he makes a silent vow to finish this endeavor later. He storms across the trash littered floor of his trailer. He's half tempted to punch that little fuck in the face. Trevor flings open the door and feels the hot summer air come rushing into his face. Wade is already trembling like the pathetic fucking insect he is. The way the white sunlight make's the piercings in his face glisten makes Trevor want to rip them out one by one with his bare hands.

"This better be a matter of life and death, Wade," Trevor says. "Because if it's not, I am going to carve the nipples off of your concave fucking chest and staple them to your shriveled nut sack."

Wade trembles and shifts his weight nervously. He is so disgusted by this spineless maggot that Trevor is close to retching.

"Well, you see Trevor—I've been hearing rumors—"

He did not have time for this. He had a million fucking things in the world that he rather be doing than listening to this horseshit.

"Rumors are not news, Wade, get the fuck off my porch!" Trevor roars.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Wade pleads.

If his wiener was still rock hard instead of limp as a dead fish, Trevor would be tempted to slam the door in Wade's face. Any and all desire for a good wank had vanished as soon as he laid eyes on this ugly little prick.

"Fine, fucking spill." Trevor relents. "Just hurry the fuck up, okay?"

Knowing Wade, this is going to be something that has absolutely no relevance what so fucking ever to Trevor.

"I was conversing with a good buddy of mine," Wade explains. "And well, we were fixing to enjoy ourselves some crystal and he pulls out the biggest rock I have ever seen, Trevor! Like this sucker is-"

He doesn't care how fucking big it was. What he cares about is where this product fucking came from. No one smokes up in Sandy Shores unless it came from Chef's fucking kitchen.

"Wade," Trevor growls. "Please fucking tell me that your ignorant, pizza faced friend bought that shit from me."

Wade tugs on his oversized gothic shirt nervously.

"Well apparently there is some pirate woman at a Twenty-four seven that's been selling it—"

"Pirate woman? What the fuck does that mean!?" Trevor says.

Wade just shrugs. Trevor can tell he's still mildly terrified. He's probably going to receive a savage beating for delivering this news. Trevor used to surprise him with those all the fucking time but after a while they stopped being a surprise. Wade just kind of expects them now.

"I drove by, she doesn't look like a pirate to me," Wade explains.

He fucking drove by? Why didn't he fucking deal with this him fucking self? Is he that fucking dumb that he couldn't deal with some punk drug dealer on his fucking own?

"Would you mind explaining something to me, Wade?" Trevor asks. "Why in the fucking hell did you not fucking kill her when you drove by? I mean how fucking difficult would it be for you to just run her over? Problem fucking solved."

Wade takes a step back. The boards of Trevor's porch creek beneath his black sneakers. Wade is well aware now that he has not handled this situation properly and there are going to be consequences.

"She looked mean, Trevor!" Wade says. "If you had seen her, you'd understand! She was really scary! That's why I came to get you—"

He can't stand the sight of this child. That's what he fucking is: a goddamn child. Jesus, how did he end up with idiots like this in his employ? Trevor pops him in the face. Wade tumbles down onto the porch and groans.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" Trevor roars. "Are you that much of a goddamn chicken shit that you can't deal with a fucking girl!?"

Wade pushes himself off the splintering planks.

"I'm sorry, Trevor!" Wade says as he braces himself on the rickety railing. "You just have to see her for yourself!"

He doesn't fucking need to see her at fucking all. This is micromanagement shit right here. Trevor could be happily choking the shit out of his chicken right now but instead he gets to deal with this kindergarten horseshit.

"Fine, fucking fine!" Trevor growls. "Take me to her because I am so fucking pissed right now I need to fucking kill something!"

It will also give him something to whack off to later. At least he'll get a little bit of murdering in today. That'll add some spice to the old fucking routine. Maybe that's what's been bothering him lately. He hasn't had a nice dose of violence in quite some fucking time. And a man can go only so long without feeling the hot blood of his enemy splashing on his face.

* * *

This pisspot of a town is hotter than fucking hell. She hates the feeling of the sweat rolling down her greasy forehead. It doesn't help that she feels like she's dying of thirst and she's so fucking hungry that it feels like her stomach is eating itself from the inside. The only thing between her and the large sprawl of desert is the black asphalt of the two lane highway. Heat makes the air undulate in serpentine waves above the road. She turns her head to the side and spits the wad of shit colored saliva on the white concrete. She's got the last of her dip in her mouth and she relishes the meaty flavor rolling across her tongue. The door from the 24/7 mart dings as another obese woman in overalls leaves with a fist full of groceries. She can't deny the fact that this place feels a bit like home.

Her good leg is starting to ache from supporting all of her weight. She wouldn't mind a good fucking sit. She doesn't have anywhere to plant her candy ass tonight though. She broke into an RV the night before but she rather have a real roof over her head. All this sweat dripping down her legs is making the straps of her prosthetic leg come loose. She jerks up her filthy pant leg and exposes the flesh colored plastic contraption to all of Sandy Shores. She tugs on the black straps to readjust them. She gets a good fucking whiff of herself while she's bent over. It's been a long fucking time since she bathed. Not that it matters, she was never one for bathing on a regular basis.

She's starting to doubt that this was a good spot to unload her shit. How the fuck is she supposed to know where all the druggies hang out? She's never been here before. She tries to force out the memory of what she's lost and why she's here. Shit, she's got a fat wad of cash in her pocket though so she's already gained a hell of lot from the residents of Sandy Shores. She's still expecting an unsatisfied customer to show up. Once that occurs she'll have to move on again. That tends to happen though when running a hustle like this.

Word of mouth has traveled around a bit. She's had a good number of suckers come by. She really had to work over the first few but she knew in a town like this it would be easy as fucking pie to find some meth heads. They all have that same fucking look to them. It's a hard look to pull off though. Most of them were uglier than sin but a couple of the one's that have come creeping by caught her eye enough that she jerked them off by the dumpster behind the 24/7.

The appeal of hard drugs never really made sense to her. That shit fucked you up in so many different ways. Look at her fucking judging them though. She's been dipping since she was sixteen. She's probably already got cancer in her nasty fucking mouth. She scratches her head and flicks the dandruff flakes off her nails into the wind. She watches the beat up cars fly by, leaving a plume of smog in their wake. It's nice to see that the rednecks in San Andreas are just like the rednecks everywhere fucking else.

An abomination of a truck comes barreling down the road. She does a double take because the red paint is so faded it looks fucking pink. It's decked out in every conceivable fucking way imaginable. This guy is definitely the fucking king of white trash. That's fucking alright because she is the goddamn goddess of garbage. Loud, angry music blares from the truck's speakers as it swerves into the parking lot. Shit, this motherfucker must really need some fucking booze. She watches the two occupants talking. One of them looks like a rat. He's one of those motherfucking Juggalo cunts too. His pasty face is full of metal and he's wearing a pussy ass Fatal Incursion shirt. And with those auburn dreadlocks, he looks like every other cliché poser that waltzes around listening to that garbage music. The other guy though, he's something special.

He's just the right kind of trashy for her. He's got a pretty face. Well, she thinks it's pretty. She has a tendency to bang guys like this. He's certainly a fine one too. She can tell he's got a little more meat on his bones than she's used to. He's definitely got a taste for crystal too because he's got those tell tale scabs plastered on his face. Shit though he's got a mean fucking look to him. It goes nicely with the strong jaw line he's rocking and chiseled facial features. He certainly is the finest meth head she has ever laid eyes on. She doesn't give two fucks that he's balding either. He wears it well.

Just looking at him has her damper than two rabbits fucking in a burlap sack. She is not letting this sucker walk away. No fucking way. She'll get some cash from him and get a little something-something too. Shit, he'll get more than a hand job from her. He's got a pretty mouth and she wants to feel it all fucking over her body. She whistles to get his attention and waves. When those brown eyes fall on her she can't help but smile. He don't seem too keen on her though. He looks all kinds of pissed off.

"Hey there, cutie!" She calls. "Why don't you bring your fine ass over here and say hello."

She watches them climb out of the truck and make their way over to her. The Juggalo looks like he's about to shit his fucking pants but hot piss, that meth head. She's not sure if he wants to break her neck or shove his dick down her throat.

"What's your name, sweet thing?" She says.

The meth head's brown eyes look her up and down and he sneers. She gets a glimpse of his yellowing teeth when he does it.

"You don't look like a pirate," he says.

Now that's a voice that makes a lady feel sticky in all that right places. He sounds Canadian. The accent is faint but it's fucking there. Shit, she's never had that flavor of spunk before. This'll be exciting.

"Pirate?" She says. "If that's what you're looking for I can make that happen. Anything to get those pants of yours off."

He seems to be pleased with her flirtation. She figured as much. She's never seen a man like this turn pussy down. It's just not in their nature. It works out nice for her too. They don't give two fucks that one of her legs ends in a stump. He flashes her a grin and circles her like a fucking vulture. Oh yeah, she's got him where she wants him.

"The name's Trevor," the meth head says. "And how may I address this fine lady?"

She loves it when trashy folk try to act all proper. She bats her eyelashes and flips her hair. That's how the ladies on fucking TV always do it. Seems to work out well for her on occasion too.

"I'm Earline," she declares.

Trevor is absolutely fine with the idea of fucking Earline before he kills her. He can't for the fucking life of him figure out why Wade thought she was scary looking. She barely looks old enough to drink. He doesn't find her spitting that fucking charming though. Whoever fucking got her hooked on dip was the cruelest son of a bitch on the face of the earth because that is the biggest boner killer he has ever encountered. Her face isn't really anything special, it's just like every other pasty freckle faced girl. She has thin pink lips and a delicate pointed chin. Her nose seems a bit too small for her face and her eyebrows are thick and unkempt. He likes that massive, frizzy mane of sandy blonde hair she has though. That's shit he could grab onto while she's sucking him off. Too bad she has to die.

Trevor wants to toy with her first. He gets the feeling she's a drifter. She's filthy and he can smell her unwashed cunt in the summer air. He still wants to make sure though. He's not a fan of competition and if some other dealer is moving into Sandy Shores they've gotten themselves into a giant fucking heap of trouble.

"My spineless friend over here tells me you've got some shit that I might be interested in," Trevor says. "Is that true?"

She twirls her fingers in her mass of hair. Her eyes keep falling over every inch of him. She's certainly fucking thirsty for him. This will make things a piece of fucking cake.

"That depends," Earline says. "You got the green for Earline?"

Oh shit, if that isn't the worst fucking line he's ever heard in his whole fucking life. Jesus and her thick ass Texan accent does nothing to help with that. She obviously thinks she's the shit but that is clearly not the case.

"Oh yeah," Trevor assures. "But I'm the type of man who likes to negotiate. Can I see the shit first?'

He is interested in seeing these giant fucking rocks. He'll be sure to snatch them off of her corpse for his own personal use.

"I'll give you a sneak peek if you show me your pecker," Earline says.

She turns her head and spits. Jesus, she's nasty but she's probably a goddess in the sack. The weird ones always are. Wade covers his eyes as Trevor unzips his fly. He whips that fucker out in the broad daylight. There's nothing to be ashamed of and he loves to watch Wade squirming over the affair. Earline certainly likes what she sees too. The site of his pink one-eyed monster is enough to bring a big fucking smile to her face. Christ though he's old enough to be her fucking father. That never stopped him before, he's not sure why it's bothering him now. He's getting soft like Michael. Trevor might as well walk off into the desert and put himself down if that's the fucking case.

"If you let me take a closer look at Trevor Junior later, I'll give you a discount," Earline proposes.

He zips up his fly as her gaze remains fixed at his crotch.

"You gonna let me see the shit now?" Trevor presses.

She digs into her pocket. As she tugs on her jeans, he catches a glimpse of the flesh colored plastic from her prosthetic limb. Well, the pirate shit makes a bit more fucking sense to him now. He's never fucked a girl with a stump before. Shit but there's a first time for everything. She pulls out the tiny plastic bag. Fuck, Wade wasn't kidding that's a huge fucking rock.

"Take a look, sugar," Earline says, handing him the baggie.

It takes him about two fucking seconds to see that there is something seriously fucking wrong with this chunk of crystal. The color is off. That's not really a major fucking deal. Different recipes produce different looking results. What's really odd is the sticky residue that seems to be clinging to the inside of the bag. He rubs his thick fingers along the bag and watches the sticky substance ooze along the surface of the rock. Trevor already knows what's going down. He's actually pretty fucking impressed with Earline. Impressed enough that he's not sure he still wants to kill her. But he's not going to let the opportunity slip away. He wants to fuck with this kid.

He starts to rip open the bag.

"Hey now—" Earline protests.

She reaches for the bag and Trevor slaps her hands away. Shit, she's really fucking starting to sweat. That only confirms his suspicions.

"What's the matter?" Trevor teases. "Why so jumpy, huh? If this shit is really as fucking stellar as my compadre says it is, you should have nothing to fucking worry about."

She narrows her gaze. She's trying to get a fix on him. Nice fucking try, sweet cheeks. She's a little too fucking cocky for her own good and it's about to bite her in the ass. He tears open the bag. He feels the sticky residue coating his fingers as he brings the rock up to his lips. He can already smell the sugary flavor. Trevor flicks his slick tongue across the rough surface of the rock. Absolutely fucking hysterical.

"Wow, Wade, you and your butt buddy must be absolutely fucking stupid," Trevor laughs. "Because you guys smoked up fucking rock candy!"

Earline starts to retreat. She's got a look of absolute fucking frustration plastered on her freckled face. Wade's hatchet face is flushing from embarrassment too.

"Trevor—" Wade begins.

"Now, now Wade, you're an idiot, it's not your fault," Trevor says. "I'm sure a lot of stupid fucks fell for your hustle, didn't they darling?"

Earline tries to limp away but Trevor grabs her by the arm and yanks her right fucking back. She tries to squirm her way out of his grasp but she's not as strong as he is.

"You son of a bitch!" Earline growls. "Like you give two fucks! Just let me go! I ain't hurt you none!"

She keeps on thrashing and he's impressed with her spirit. Too bad she doesn't have the brawn to really back it up. He kicks out her prosthetic leg and watches the plastic contraption bounce across the asphalt. She lets out a gasp as her ass slams into the concrete sidewalk.

"Now you listen the fuck up," Trevor growls. "I fucking run this county, so yes, you did fucking hurt me. You stole customers from me with your pathetic fucking hustle and I'm not fucking pleased about that. You also had the indecency to make me look like a complete fucking idiot!"

Wade seems very pleased with the outcome of this situation thus far, that little imp has no idea what's coming does he? Trevor wants to scare the piss out of this girl but he has no intention of ending her life now.

"However," Trevor goes on. "That's some pretty slick shit you pulled. I have to say, you've got some potential."

"Trevor, what're you doing?" Wade asks.

He whirls around and slaps Wade up the side of his ugly fucking head. That kid doesn't know when to shut the fuck up. Earline tries to crawl towards her prosthetic leg. Now, now, he can't have that now can he? He slams his boot onto her hand. She lets out a curse as he grinds his boot into her knuckles. The bones in her hand snap and crack in the most delightful fucking way.

"I'm not fucking done with you yet," Trevor seethes.

He lets her slip away. She rolls onto her side, cradling her hand.

"Fucking bastard!" Earline snaps. "When I get my goddamn leg. I'm gonna gut you like a fucking pig!"

Holy piss she's feisty. She fucked him over. He can't deny that but he kind of likes her. He already made up his mind but she's certainly fucking reassuring him that it was the right decision.

"I like the way you think, sweetheart," Trevor says. "How'd you like to work for Trevor Philips Enterprises?"

Earline cannot fucking believe this asshole. Is he absolutely fucking off his rocker? Shit, he saw right through her fucking scheme. She's never had that happen, not until the dumb fucks tried to smoke up and couldn't get high. He's smart and he certainly has her in a tight fucking spot. Shit, if he wanted he could kill her right fucking here. It feels like her leg is a thousand miles away. She can feel the rough texture of her jeans brushing against the soft surface of her stub.

She has a million fucking reasons to not trust him. He's got a mean streak but if he really runs the drug racket in Sandy Shores, he's got the resources she desperately needs.

"Well?" Trevor presses. "You either die here like a piece of fucking road kill or you work for me. It's your fucking choice."

The one called Wade tries to protest again but after Trevor shoots him a mean glare he has nothing to say. Shit, those aren't exactly the best options but it's all she has.

"I suppose I best start calling you boss now," Earline says.

Trevor's face lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree. She has to admit she kind of likes that he can morph between terrifying psychopath and charming redneck in the blink of an eye.

"Wade, retrieve the young lady's uh—peg leg? Is that what you call that shit?" Trevor says.

She doubts Trevor is really that fucking ignorant. He's just trying to push her buttons. She watches the hook-nosed Juggalo carry her leg back over to her. It's all scratched up from its adventure across the parking lot. She's a little banged up too. She feels pain shooting up her tail bone. Wade holds out her leg to her and Earline snatches it from his spindly fucking fingers.

"Welcome to the family," Trevor says, flashing his yellow smile.

She tugs up her pant leg. She watches Wade's eyes grow wide as he gazes at her stump. The lumpy flesh looks like a dried up piece of carrion in the sunlight.

"Why you staring boy?" Earline growls. "You ain't never seen this much of a woman before?"

Trevor slaps Wade across the face again, this time he draws a little blood. Now ain't that just the most gentlemanly thing you ever did see?

"Don't be fucking rude, Wade! That's sexual fucking harassment!" Trevor roars.

She adjusts the straps as quickly as she can and holds out her hand. Trevor interlocks his fingers with hers and the muscles in his forearm bulge as he helps her to her feet. She staggers a bit and braces herself on his broad shoulders. She lets her hands linger on the surface of his biceps. Hot damn, her new boss is fucking cut. What the fuck has she just gotten herself into?

Trevor feels a wave of heat wash over him as Earline braces herself against him. When she pulls away after getting her balance back, his skin still feels on fire from her touch.

"Now where is the little lady laying her head down at night?" Trevor asks.

Earline shrugs and hocks another loogie onto the pavement. She aims it precariously close to Wade's sneakers and the kid jumps away when it lands near him. If she keeps that shit up, Trevor might be tempted to keep her around forever.

"I'm sort of homeless at the moment," Earline admits.

He figured as much. Well, that works out just fine for him. Trevor didn't feel like jerking himself off again tonight anyway.

"You can crash with me," Trevor suggests. "That's until you uh—get back on your feet."

Oh man, that was probably the best fucking joke he's ever made. When she laughs at the pun, he feels a deep sense of satisfaction.

"Sounds fine to me, hot stuff," Earline says.

Trevor hasn't had guests since Patricia was around. It'll be a nice fucking change that's for fucking sure. They start to make their way back to his truck. Earline's limps along behind them just like a duckling. As he drives them back to his trailer he thinks about all the ways he can get her to repay him for his hospitality. The occasional clink from her spit entering the empty beer can is driving him up the fucking wall though. He has got to nip that fucking shit in the bud. It's not fucking lady like and he doesn't plan on cleaning up her fucking cans of spit all over his goddamn house. Of course, Trevor never really cleans so it's a nonexistent issue.

Earline has her artificial leg propped up over the door of the truck. She watches Trevor cup his balls as he steers the behemoth vehicle down the highway. The flavor of her dip is starting to weaken much to her disappointment. She's not so sure about this Wade guy. He keeps asking her questions, trying to make friendly conversation and, she gives no fucks. He's like a goddamn horse fly buzzing around her ear. These two, as nasty as they are, seem like stand up guys. This Trevor guy certainly has a good head on his shoulders. He's easy on the eyes too. After all the shit she's been through, she's eager to begin again. Maybe this is her chance to.

He expected her to be more talkative. She certainly had a lot to fucking say when she was trying to hustle him in the parking lot. She responds to every one of Wade's questions with some short, meaningless answer. It's obvious to Trevor that she's got shit to hide. All he knows is she doesn't have a gun but she's been dipping her toes into the hustling game. She's got a lot to learn if she expects to make it in this business. Her attitude is perfect though and that's the shit that can really take a person far in this life. If the rest of her skills catch up with that, goddamn, she'll be unstoppable. Shit, is this how Michael felt when he first met Franklin?

Fuck, Michael got himself a protégé. Why not Trevor? He'd been around the block a few times. He was a smart fucking guy and he had valuable skills. It's not like he has any kids to pass them onto. He was also willing to admit that Wade and Ron were too fucking spineless to be even half the man that he was. What's the worst that could go wrong? So maybe she turns out to be a fuck up. Big deal. He can just kill her. Besides, he might get a good screw out of the whole thing.


	2. I Can't Wait

Earline is positive that the dark stain on the plaid cushion near her face is blood. She didn't sleep for shit last night either. It has nothing to do with the fact that Trevor's trailer smells like a decomposing corpse or the fact that she woke up a few times with a massive roach crawling on her. No, Earline was up most of the night fighting off the memory of that son of bitch. The man with no name. All she knows about him is what he looks like and what horrible fucking things he did to her. She ran all the way here from Las Venturas to escape and she barely fucking made it. And Earline isn't entirely sure that bastard even cares if she's alive or dead because she can't fucking do shit to him.

White light beams in from behind the crooked blinds in Trevor's windows. Christ on a crutch, it's barely eight in the morning and she's already got a mean craving for her dip. Nobody could fucking blame her though. She's in a trailer with a man she barely knows and just started working for his drug ring yesterday afternoon. And god fucking damn it, he didn't even have the decency to fuck her last night. She had to listen to him jerk off in the bedroom while she was stuck out on this ratty fucking couch all by her lonesome.

The door swings open and a new face steps into the dim light of the trailer. This fucker is dressed like some Los Santos tourist who got lost trying to find the beach. Grey hair sticks out from under his ridiculous hat and he's got the undeniable look of terror in his eye. He's clutching a steaming plastic red cup in his scab plastered hands. When he locks eyes with Earline he lets out a squeak and jumps back.

"Wh-who are you?" He demands. "I know martial arts okay? So don't try anything."

Earline highly doubts that this twitchy fucking meth head could do anything except scrape the chicken shit off of a barn floor.

"And who the fuck are you?" Earline snaps. "Trevor never mentioned any dandy ass motherfuckers like you."

She swings her legs off of the couch and reaches for her prosthetic.

"Ron! Goddamn it, you better have my coffee!" Trevor hollers.

Well that answers her fucking question. If this is another employee of Trevor Philips Industries, Earline understands why Trevor snatched her up like he did. Ron pushes his way into Trevor's bedroom as Earline eases herself to her feet and watches the scene unfold. It's the queerest fucking thing she has ever seen.

Trevor bursts into the main room with Ron in tow. He guzzles down the coffee and the hot brown liquid spills down his neck and splatters on his filthy t-shirt. Ron is fussing over Trevor like a mother sending her children off to school. Trevor tosses the empty cup onto the floor. Ron's clucking on about some nonsense that Earline can't for the life of her wrap her head around. He mentions lizard men and aliens which Trevor seems to give no fucks about what so ever.

"Ron, did you not bring any coffee for my guest?" Trevor seethes. "Is this how you greet your new blood sister, huh? Way to fucking make a first impression you useless fuck."

"Huh?" Ron stammers.

Trevor growls and kicks an empty beer can across the trailer. Earline watches it bounce off the wall. Shit, she likes when this son of a bitch gets angry.

"Earline here is the newest member of the Trevor Philips Industries family!" Trevor explains. "Do not fucking make her regret that decision or I swear to God, Ron, I will be using your congealed blood for bath soap."

Trevor is just as sweet as Gammy's apple pie. Earline only ever had one man look out for her like this and it don't compare to the way Trevor's sticking his neck out for her.

"I'm sorry," Ron pleads. "Just let me go get you some, miss, I'll be right back. I promise this won't happen again, Trevor."

That yellow motherfucker sprints out of that trailer faster than a jack rabbit when it sees a hound dog. Well this situation just played out right the way she fucking wanted it to, didn't it?

"Morning," Earline says.

She makes sure to give Trevor the old up down to let him know she's still very much interested in getting to know him better.

"I apologize for that," Trevor says. "Ron's an idiot. If he gives you trouble, just smack him around a bit and he'll fall right into line."

Shit, she wouldn't mind getting smacked around by Trevor.

"Ain't no harm done," Earline says. "But I'll keep that in mind."

She watches his white shirt get pulled snugly across his chest when he leans against his kitchen counter. She can't rightly tear her eyes away from that sight. She might even go as far as saying he's finer than Burt Reynolds. Almost.

"We never discussed my rent," Earline says. "It don't feel proper staying here without…compensating you."

He best pick up what she's putting down or she's likely to go mad staying under his roof. Trevor smirks and starts rubbing the stubble under his chin. Well shit, he certainly looks interested. Please baby Jesus, make this happen.

"Did you have something specific in mind?" Trevor asks.

His brown eyes flicker over her body. She likes when a man's forward like this. She don't mind playing the game but when it comes to a fine specimen such as Trevor she prefers just getting down to the nitty gritty.

"Come on over here," Earline says as she motions to the couch. "I'll show you what I been thinking."

She flops back on the couch. It's not exactly easy for her to be graceful. She only got one knee and sitting is difficult with that going on. Trevor slinks his way over to her. Hot damn she likes watching him walk. Trevor carries himself with a swagger that makes it seem like he owns the whole goddamn world. He slides onto the couch next to her. Her cooter is already getting slick just by feeling his hard body brushing against her. He drapes his thick arm over her narrow shoulders. Fucking Christ. She surveys the way his shirt falls over the curve of his muscles. She can't wait to tear off his clothes and run her tongue across every inch of his glorious body.

"So tell me, gorgeous," Trevor coos. "How are you paying for last night's stay at the Casa De Philips?"

He speaks Spanish like the honkey son of a bitch he is and she fucking loves it. Being this close to his face doesn't make him any less pretty either. That's fucking nice for a change. Some guys are good from a far and then you get up close and it's just like a pile of fish guts. The lines on Trevor's face seemed to have formed in all the right places. His scars don't bother her none either. Neither do the dark circles under his eyes. The few brown wisps of hair on his head are plastered to his greasy forehead.

"I'm thinking we're short on time," Earline hisses. "So, how about half now and the rest later?"

She reaches across his lap and rubs her palm along his crotch. Earline can feel the warm, fleshy mass of his cock growing hard beneath his jeans.

"I'm up for that—almost," Trevor says, flashing his yellow smile.

God damn he is a sexy motherfucker. Earline gives no fucks about the coffee that's coming for her. She never drank that shit anyway. The shit going down right now is what really gets her going in the morning. This shit's even better than dip. Earline slips her hand beneath Trevor's waist band. Her fingers grope around the damp, hairy region of his crotch until she feels the familiar velvety texture that she's seeking. She gazes into his eyes as she runs her hand along his shaft. The guttural sounds of pleasure creeping up his throat makes it difficult for her to resist the urge to slip her fingers in her buttery cunt with her free hand.

A crooked smile creeps across Trevor's face as she picks up the pace. His chest heaves up and down in a sporadic rhythm. She relishes the power she feels over him as his eyes roll into the back of his head. By the way he's bucking about, Earline knows he's right on the edge. The door swings open and bangs against the wall. Earline's heart practically jumps right out of her fucking chest. Ron stumbles into the trailer and coffee sloshes out of the cup clutched in his hand. Earline yanks her hand out of Trevor's trousers with the quickness of a viper.

"God fucking damn it, Ron!" Trevor roars.

Trevor's face is beet fucking red and he wants to snap Ron's neck in half. Is he ever going to be able to fucking cum ever again or is he doomed to be interrupted every time by these idiots?

"Tre—" Ron stammers.

"No! Get the fuck out! Right fucking now!" Trevor growls.

Ron's trembling so much that he's spilling coffee all over his shirt.

"B-but the coffee," Ron says.

Trevor leaps from the couch. He will kill him. He will fucking kill him and use his dead fucking hand to wipe his ass. Trevor seizes Ron by the throat and shakes him like a rag doll.

"Get the fuck out of my house!" Trevor snarls as he shoves Ron out the door.

Ron crashes through the porch railing and slams into the dusty earth. If he's broken his neck, Trevor doesn't care. He slams the door so hard that the walls of the trailer shake. He presses his back against the door. No fucking way will he let that frog legged son of bitch back in here until his cum has painted the fucking walls.

"Get over here!" Trevor growls. "On your fucking knees-well knee—fuck it just get fucking over here!"

He can barely fucking wait as she limps across the trailer. Her artificial limb makes a loud thunk every time it slams into the rickety floor. He's never been so hungry for a wank in his whole fucking life. This must be what she fucking did to survive because holy piss is she amazing at it. Her wild swath of hair has fallen in her face and he can barely make out Earline's twisted grin. He can't wait. He can't fucking wait.

Earline wraps her fingers around his dick again. He's so ready for it that he can't help but laugh. He was so fucking close. It shouldn't take much effort on her part. He watches her shoulder bob up and down as she jerks him off. Trevor expects to feel the pleasure rising up within him. He expects the tips of his fingers to tingle in that familiar way as he draws closer to the precipice. Instead it's all just starting to slip away. He's done a thousand things in front of Ron like this before and it never bothered him. Fuck, he's been able to rub one out while riding on a crowded bus. His heart isn't hammering from the arousal now. He's freaking the fuck out.

Why is this happening to him? He's not old enough for this shit to happen. Earline keeps tugging but her brows are furrowed with frustration. Jesus, he's in the prime of his life! It's still fucking happening though and all he wants to do is kill something. He watches his limp johnson fall out of Earline's grasp.

"No! Fucking no!" Trevor protests. "Fucking wait! I got this!"

He grabs his cock and starts jerking it furiously. He will fucking get it back up. He's the man, god damn it! This shit doesn't happen to him! Earline's laughing at him. Fuck! She's actually laughing at him.

"Ain't no reason to be ashamed," Earline says. "It happens to all guys sometimes."

"Not to fucking me!" Trevor growls. "This doesn't fucking happen to me!"

Trevor seizes her by that nasty fucking mop of hair and shoves her head right down on his limp cock. She chokes and flails. Her legs slip out from under her and she collapses onto the floor. Oh no fucking way. Trevor will not fucking let this go until he has fought tooth and nail to the bitter end. He digs his crusty nails into her scalp and keeps her head pressed up against his groin. Even after she stops struggling and starts to bob her head up and down, he isn't able to salvage the situation. An animalistic sound erupts from his lips as he shoves her away. If he can't get off there's only one fucking thing to do. He yanks on his zipper so hard that he breaks the cheap piece of metal. Just fuck it!

He tears open the coat closet. Earline braces herself on the kitchen counter as she gets back to her feet. He's never been so fucking embarrassed in his entire fucking life. How absolutely fucking pathetic is it that he couldn't keep it up for some baby faced thing cranking his shaft? He yanks his shotgun out of the closet. Trevor's going to blast her stupid freckled face across the walls of his trailer. There's no fucking way it's his fault that the old lady pleaser couldn't perform. He wraps his fingers around the cold black metal and runs his hand along the length of the barrel. If he wants to kill her why is he hesitating?

Trevor whirls around and pumps the shotgun. Killing her will make him feel better. A good messy murder always does the fucking trick. But when he lays eyes on her the desire slips away. What the fuck is it with this cunt?

"Oh lordy," Earline giggles. "You fixing to get into some trouble, boss?"

Fuck, seeing how excited she is by that prospect actually brings a smile to his face. Nothing says he can't murder her later. Rage is still stampeding through his veins though. Shit just isn't fucking making any god damn sense anymore.

"You know how to shoot a gun?" Trevor asks.

Earline is clearly offended by his question but he doesn't care. She's a rookie and the sooner she owns up to that the faster she can learn from the pros.

"Of course I know how to shoot!" Earline growls.

He tosses her the shotgun. The kid fumbles when she catches it and the shotgun blasts a massive fucking hole through his floor. She shrieks and flings it at the ground. For the love of God. Is nothing going to fucking pan out for him today? Ron comes bursting through the front door. Blood is streaming down his wrinkled forehead and his clothes are covered with the shitty coffee that was meant to be for Earline.

"Is everything all right, Trevor!?" Ron gasps.

Earline's cheeks are flushed with embarrassment. He's tempted to kill her again just to put her out of her dumb fucking misery.

"Yes," Trevor says. "But apparently dipshit here is too much of a moron to realize that she in fact does not know how to properly handle a firearm."

"Hey!" Earline snaps.

Trevor storms across the room and slaps her.

"You shut the fuck up!" Trevor roars. "I had planned on doing some relaxing fucking killing and now I have to drag your candy ass out for a fucking shooting lesson!"

Earline clutches her face. Her pride seems more hurt than anything else. Good, she fucking needs this. The damn kid's too fucking cocky for her own good.

"Ron, are the fucking sniper rifles still in my truck?" Trevor pries.

Ron's legs are quaking in his stupid fucking cargo shorts. There's a good chance he has a mild concussion, it wouldn't be the first time he's had that happen.

"Y-yeah," Ron stammers.

Trevor can't fucking believe he's doing this. Shit, he thought he was embarrassed about going soft but Earline looks like she just wants to curl up in a corner and die she's so ashamed.

"Alright, alright, Ron hold down the fort," Trevor orders. "You—in the truck!"

She keeps her head hanging low as they exit the trailer. Fuck, it's actually pretty hysterical to watch her pouting like this. It doesn't help that the way she limps just makes her look absolutely fucking ridiculous. He knows it's fucked up to laugh at a cripple but he doesn't give a single shit. Trevor is deriving a sense of pleasure from her humiliation. He still holds all the power here despite the mishap in the trailer.

Trevor has to give Earline a push to help her climb into the truck. That little gesture only seems to piss her off even more. She needs to cut that shit out or he'll just end up murdering her earlier than he intends to. Ungrateful bitches get right under his fucking skin. A cloud of dust engulfs them as his truck peels down the street. Trevor knows exactly where he wants to fucking go and he's got to take all the fucking back roads in Sandy Shores to reach his destination. The desert landscape is dotted with buildings that aren't up to code anymore and a thick layer of smog hangs on the horizon. Fuck, he loves this view though. There's nothing more beautiful on the entire fucking planet.

He can't put up with Earline's brooding much longer. She refuses to look him in the eye. It's like a fucking four year old is sitting in the passenger seat next to him.

"Hey," Trevor says. "You just gonna sit there with your panties stuck up your ass or—"

"Fuck you," Earline grumbles.

He floors it as he turns down a gravel road. The truck bucks and rocks, jostling them around.

"I know you'd love that but I'm more in the mass murdering mood at the moment," Trevor teases.

Shit, he's already getting a hard on again just thinking about it.

"Murder?" Earline asks. "I thought y'all was gonna teach me how to shoot since I'm so incompetent and all that."

God fucking damn it! Does she have to be such a moody fucking cunt? He's going out of his god damn way to be nice to her and all she can fucking do is cop an attitude.

"You can knock that shit off right fucking now!" Trevor roars. "Because I am the only thing between you and a bullet in your hormonal fucking brain! I'm your fucking life line so you better start showing me some goddamn respect!"

Trevor is dead ass serious. He's killed employees before without a second thought. Earline isn't anything special. She doesn't need to be alive for him to fuck her.

"I don't care who the fuck you are!" Earline snaps. "I ain't a fan of people disrespecting me! I know what I can do! You don't know shit about me!"

Oh he does know shit about her. He knows that she's clumsy and full of herself. He knows that she's one step away from being under six feet of dry desert earth. It's a miracle she survived on her own as long as she did. The truck's engine roars as it climbs up the steep hillside. Rocks bounce off the dented metal and fly off into the desert.

"Yeah, I don't fucking respect you!" Trevor says. "Maybe, just fucking maybe, if you live long enough to get your head out of your tiny little asshole I will but that's a long shot. You can sit there and bitch and moan all you fucking want but, let me tell you something you little shit. I fucking own you. I can make your life a living Hell and when I'm done with that I will just shove your bloated fucking corpse in my oven and eat you for fucking breakfast. So why don't you make our lives a lot fucking easier by shutting the fuck up and doing what I fucking say!"

His tangent silences her. Her face is flushed with anger and Earline is biting down so hard on her lower lip that he thinks she might start bleeding. The truck bounces over the rolling hills as it lumbers down the road. Trevor jacks up the radio. The chaotic music blares through the desert wilderness. He is going to enjoy this even if he missed out on one of his favorite pass times this morning. He's already getting giddy with anticipation for the chaos that's about to be unleashed. Still, he needs to know what he's working with here.

"Have you ever actually fired a gun?" Trevor asks.

Earline seems surprised by his relaxed tone.

"Yeah…" Earline trails off.

Oh fucking boy, he knew it. She's still angling herself away from him. Fuck, she dwells on shit just like every other bitch.

"Well? What was it? How fucking often?" Trevor pries. "I need to know this shit."

Earline shifts in her seat. She's embarrassed yet fucking again. She better fucking get used to that shit because it's going to be a long fucking time before she'll be able to impress his ass again.

"A revolver." Earline says. "I only shot it twice."

Well look at fucking that. He called that one from a million fucking miles away. She's blushing furiously as her wild hair whips around her face. She's just as new to the life as he had expected.

"Those got some kick to them, don't they?" Trevor says. "You kill anyone?"

Earline shakes her head. He was expecting that shit too. If she plays her cards right though she'll be playing in the big leagues in no time. She's just lucky she ran into him when she fucking did. She's got the best fucking mentor in the world for this career track.

"Well, that's all changing today!" Trevor declares. "You're going to kill yourself a biker! You excited?"

She tries to hide the smirk creeping across her face but Trevor catches it. He's a little envious of her. He remembers what it felt like the first time he killed someone. After that, the thrill just isn't the fucking same.

"Where we headed, boss?" Earline asks.

Fuck, he can hear the intrigue in her voice. A girl after his own fucking heart. She reminds him a lot of himself at that age. Well except for the whole vagina and peg leg thing. She thinks out of the box just like him; meaning that she's got a thirst for blood and a fantastic fucking sense of humor.

"You ever heard of the Lost?" Trevor says. "Well, I found a nice spot a few weeks ago that looks right over their base. It's become my new favorite place for target practice!"

Earline starts to twirl her delicate pink fingers through her hair. She's starting to perk up a bit. He can't quite find the words to describe the way that's making him feel.

"I think I fucked one of them," Earline says. "I mean not here in San Andreas but he had a tiny pecker."

"See!" Trevor says. "That's all the motivation you fucking need! Let's shoot all those tiny pricked sons of bitches!"

The childish giggle that elicits from her has him beaming. They crack jokes the whole drive to the overlook. The more excited he gets the more he sees it rubbing off on her. She's feeding off of his energy in the best fucking way. He can't fucking wait for this. He's glad he picked her sorry ass up in that parking lot. He's found himself a partner in crime again and it feels damn fucking good. The white sun is blazing right over their heads as he parks the truck at the top of the cliff. The gravel beneath their feet crunches as their boots meet with the earth. A dilapidated trailer park stretches out below them. The blackened remains of the trailers Trevor blew up months ago still remain. He's barely given The Lost a chance to clean up his last mess and he's already hitting them again.

Trevor leans into the bed of the truck and pulls out one of the sniper rifles. Earline stumbles when he hands it to her. She's obviously not used to the weight of it. She's probably going to have some issues with the kickback too. Her eyes light up as she looks over the fine piece of machinery that lies in her hands. Fuck, he's pretty fucking hyped up too. As he loads the rifle with rounds his excitement grows. He tosses her the box of shells. Earline just stares at it with a furrowed brow. Fuck, really? He props his rifle up against the side of the truck.

"Here," Trevor growls. "I show you how to do this one time and one fucking time only! So pay attention!"

He guides her hands along the gun. The tender flesh of her hand feels impossibly soft in his calloused palms. Trevor helps her slip the rounds into the rifle, each one making a loud clank as it snaps into place.

His eyes flicker up to hers and he says, "You got that?"

"Yes, sir," Earline says.

No snide comment? Nothing? Shit, he's not so sure if he's happy about that. He's not fucking sure what that look on her face is supposed to mean either. Earline doesn't seem happy but she certainly doesn't seem fucking upset. Jesus, fucking women, they're absolutely impossible to read. He snatches his rifle up again and gestures for her to follow him. They walk a short ways up the road before he finds a spot with nice cover. He's not too fucking into this stealthy shit. This is more of Michael's type of thing but he doesn't trust Earline enough to just throw her right into a firefight. Besides, he still enjoys that sexual satisfaction he feels when he watches someone's head explode like a fucking grape after lining up the perfect shot.

Earline lies down on the ground and he rolls his eyes. Fuck, why is it punks like this always think they know how to fucking snipe shit?

"What the fuck are you doing?" Trevor groans.

"What? Ain't this how it goes?" Earline asks.

Only if you know what you're doing, dumb ass. It's not like she's a frail thing but he knows she's not going to be ready for the kickback that'll come when she fires off that sucker. She's going to dislocate her fucking shoulder in that position and the last fucking thing he wants right now is to drag her candy ass to the hospital.

"Get up," Trevor orders. "On your knees—"

He's going to make that mistake a thousand more times before he finally gives up on it all. It's painful just watching her trying to get into a crouched position. Eventually she gives up and snatches off her prosthetic limb. She tosses it towards the truck and he watches it roll across the rocks. She takes aim again. Fuck, even Franklin was never this terrible. He's really got his fucking work set out for him.

"Hold your fucking horses," Trevor says. "I'm gonna help you take the first shot."

Earline lets out an exasperated sigh. He just smacks her up the side of her head.

"Quit your bitching!" Trevor growls. "Do you want me to fucking cut your tits off?"

"No," Earline sighs.

Fuck, now he knows why he never bothered to have fucking kids. He can't fucking deal with this horse shit. Trevor gets into position behind her. He presses right up against her back. He has to make sure his footing is just fucking right. She's going to jump as soon as she lets off that shot and if he's not careful they're going to both go tumbling down this rock face. Her coarse hair tickles his nose and the stench of her sweat floods his nostrils.

"Don't put the scope so fucking close to your eye," Trevor explains. "You're gonna give yourself a fucking shiner that way."

She mumbles something under her breath and he slaps her again. Shit, if she's not careful he might end up giving her a fucking shiner.

"Line up your shot, then tell me when you're ready," Trevor says.

She gnaws on her bottom lip as she scans the trailer park. He's impressed when she hovers over some bearded fuck smoking off in the distance. He's away from everyone else. There's a good chance when he goes down, no one will notice. That gives them more time to have fun.

"Got him," Earline says.

Fuck her voice sounds just like it did this morning when she offered to jerk him off. She's one sick little bitch, isn't she?

"Alright," Trevor says. "This kicks like a son of bitch so you really need to lean into the shot."

He makes sure to keep his weight pressed into her. He won't let her lean back. Not a fucking chance. Her arms are shaking from the weight of the rifle. She pulls the trigger. She lets out a grunt as he feels her jump. It's not nearly as much of a reaction as he had expected from her. Good, because he wasn't going to put up with that pussy ass shit anyway. She cackles with delight when the biker's head explodes and sprays blood up into the air.

"You fucking see that!?" Earline gasps. "That's the fucking tits!"

She did good. He won't fucking tell her that shit though. He can't inflate her ego any fucking more than it already is or her goddamn head will explode just like that poor fucker's. When he pulls away from her he sees panic flash across her face. He'll fucking tease the shit out of her for that later.

"Wh-what're you doing?" Earline asks.

"I said I help you take the first shot," Trevor says. "I'm not gonna fucking sit here and hold your hand. You know what you need to do. So fucking do it."

He settles into position. They won't have much time. The Lost are already scouring the park trying to figure out where the shot came from. Fuck, he's probably going to cum right here. He can't make out there faces but the terror in their body language is enough to have him jonesing for their blood to soak into the dry, dusty ground. Every time they take one down, their chorus of laughter rings through the hot desert air. This shit is fun but Earline has no fucking idea what a really good time is. He'll show her. They can hear the screams of the Lost all the way up here. Fuck, if he could lob a few grenades down there it would be fucking beautiful. Time's up now though.

The tiny little silhouettes below them are starting to point right fucking at them. Earline is too fucking wrapped up in lining up another shot to notice. He hollers at her and watches the disappointment wash over her expression. He helps her get up; she braces herself against him as she hops over to her fake leg. They've got to come up with a better system for this shit. This isn't exactly fucking conducive to a speedy getaway. The shouts of the angry bikers grow louder as Trevor shoves her into the truck. She clutches her plastic limb in her lap with a look of pure and utter delight plastered to her round face. Trevor leaps into the driver's seat. The truck's engine roars to life and smothers the sound of their cackling.

"I think you earned your ass some dip, little lady," Trevor declares.

* * *

Earline's eyes roll into the back of her head as she tucks the dip between her gums and her lip. The bitter juices coat her tongue and comfort her very soul. It's just like fucking apple pie after a barbeque. Shooting up those bikers was a damn hoot. She'd never killed before. She expected to feel different but she still feels like the same old gal. Trevor's guzzling down the beer he picked up from the gas station. Sweat slides down the curves of his neck and onto his stained t-shirt. He can be kind of a dick but he's still mighty fine. Earline tucks the can of dip into her coat pocket. This shit is more precious to her than fucking gold.

Fuck though, the feeling the dip gives her is nothing compared to how she felt popping those Lost fuckers. She didn't care if they had families or loved ones that would miss them. It felt so fucking good smudging them out from the face of existence that she thought she was going to cum. The weight of that gun in her hands and the way it kicked was fucking intoxicating. Shit, Trevor was fucking intoxicating. She's never met a man who doesn't give a shit like that. Not a single fucking soul. The truck bounces as they rumble down the road. The shocks on this junker are clapped the fuck out. It's been tossing her around so much she's damn sure she'll wake up with whiplash tomorrow.

No one's ever taken this much time out of their lives to show Earline anything. She knows it's a pretty twisted fucking situation but she's feels damn content with it all. She don't know this fucker too well but he's already done more for her in forty-eight hours than anyone else on earth ever has. She doesn't have the slightest clue how she'll ever repay him. Earline can suck his cock all she wants but it won't make up for all this. She isn't too pleased with how quickly she's getting invested in him. Earline hadn't planned on forming any attachments when she came out here. Now she's in deeper with this crazy fuck than she has ever been with anyone else. So much for that fucking plan.

"Why do you like that shit so much?" Trevor asks.

What the fuck is he on about?

"That shit'll kill you," Trevor goes on. "Have you tried speed? Now that's good stuff right there and you get a lot of shit done while you're on it."

She doesn't need another lecture on how bad dipping is for her. Earline will stop as soon as the taste of tobacco in her mouth stops being so goddamn divine.

"That shit will kill you too," Earline says. "And a hell of a lot faster."

Trevor doesn't look as fucked up as some of the addicts she's seen but that doesn't mean he won't be that way someday. The thought of him getting that way makes her feel some nasty feelings that she'd prefer to ignore.

"A lot of shit can kill you," Trevor says. "But if you let that hold you back, you miss out on so much fucking shit. So I say fuck it! Live your goddamn life!"

That's actually some pretty fucking good advice coming from someone like him.

"Then don't give me shit for dipping," Earline teases. "You ain't my Pa."

She certainly wouldn't be trying to fuck her Pappy that's for damn sure. That also sounds like a pretty fucking tits way to end the day. She was ready to do it right there at the top of that damn cliff but it's not like they had time for that sort of thing. They had a mob of angry bikers headed their way and they weren't liable to let them rut were they?

"So what's the deal with your leg?" Trevor asks.

Earline knew this question was going to come up eventually. She's thankful he's being so fucking blunt about it. People have a tendency to beat around the bush with that. It's just another trait of Trevor's that she can add to the list of things she's starting to like about him. It makes her want to puke.

"I was real little," Earline says. "I honestly don't remember it too well but basically my foster parents waited too damn long to take me to the doctor. I got a nasty infection so they cut her off."

She wishes it was a more exciting story. She used to make a game of it. Going around seeing how crazy of a yarn she could spin before people called her out on it.

"Jesus, amputation? What? Did you fucking grow up with the Amish or some shit?" Trevor asks.

If Earline had grown up with the Amish she probably wouldn't be riding around in this truck and shooting up bikers.

"They do it all the time with folks that got diabetes," Earline explains. "It got really fucking nasty. I could've died I suppose."

She's been close to death a number of times and she imagines Trevor has too. People who live lives like theirs don't exactly operate in the safest of circles. Trevor seems to give no fucks about her little story either. It's a nice change for fucking once. She doesn't appreciate the pity people give her for that. It's just a fact of life; their tears ain't going to change nothing about it. She's done talking about herself though. She's pretty fucking thirsty for something else.

"We never resolved that issue I brought up this morning," Earline says.

She leans over and spits out of the truck. Fuck it feels good to have dip in her mouth again.

"Right," Trevor says. "So jerk me off."

Damn, she loves how forward he is. He's made it clear he finds her dipping pretty foul. As much as she'd love to get a taste of him she knows she'll have to wait until this dip runs out. She's done this shit so much it barely takes her any thought what so fucking ever. She reaches across the seat and undoes his pants. Nobody's going to be able to interrupt them this time. Thank fucking Christ. She ain't in the mood for that shit again. His skin is sticky from sweat and hot to the touch. Fucking hell, she wants to do much more than wank him off but she'll have to wait. Earline starts to tug on his fat cock.

He squirms like a Copperhead that's been decapitated. It isn't doing anything nice for his fucking driving either. If they crash, she doesn't really care. His face grows redder as she jerks faster and faster. The muscles in her arm are starting to burn. It's a feeling that she adores experiencing. She wants to give him more than this. Fuck, she can't wait. She wants this more than she wants to savor the meaty flavor of the tobacco in her mouth. Earline scrapes out the dip from her mouth with her free hand. She flings it out of the truck and it splatters on the asphalt. It's likely she'll regret this later when her tin's about to run out but right now she doesn't care one fucking bit.

Earline yanks open the flap of his trousers and exposes that glorious instrument to the light of day. She might start calling him "beer can" from now on. It certainly suits him better than "boss." He gasps when she takes him in her mouth. It's a flavor that's finer than any dip ever could be. The truck swerves off the road and bounces as it thunders across the rocky landscape. Trevor slams on the brakes so hard that she slams her head into the steering wheel. Like she fucking cares. She's too damn thirsty to give a fuck about the pain. By the look of him, he doesn't give a shit either. He snatches her by the hair and drags her out of the cab. He's shaking like a fucking leaf.

He knocks all the air out of her lungs when he pins her up against the side of the truck. There isn't a single thing she wants to say. She was ready for this the moment she saw his ass come sauntering towards her in that 24/7 parking lot. He rips off her pants and she feels the warm breeze tickle her thighs. She doesn't even care that her only pair of pants has just been torn apart. His thick arms heft her up. His stubble scrapes across the skin of her cheek as she hangs onto him. He fucks her right there, on the side of the road, in broad fucking daylight. He grunts like a pig as he pounds into her. The sound of his voice right next to her damn ear is just too fucking much. Her bum leg is sticking out in the air like a fucking radio antenna. He's brutal and there isn't even a shrivel of tenderness in the heat of that moment. The sound of his shirt tearing beneath her desperate grasps can barely be heard over her moans of pleasure. It's over too quickly for her to make it over the edge. She doesn't even care. It was the most amazing screw she's ever had.

They lean against the side of the truck. Sweat drenches his shirt as he pants like a fucking dog. His face is nearly purple he's so out of breath. He's wheezing like an old geezer with asthma. Shit though it turns her on. She can't deny that.

"You ruined my pants," Earline gasps.

Fuck, he cracks that crooked grin as he laughs. His mouth is too damn pretty for its own good. She wants to know what it tastes like but today isn't the day for that. This is just a business arrangement. That sort of thing doesn't mix well with a situation like this. It leads to sore feelings and she doesn't want to deal with that.

"You can have some of mine," Trevor says.

She'll be swimming in them but she doesn't really have much of a choice. The remnants of his juices are making her thighs stick together. It's been too damn long since she's experienced that feeling. Her legs can barely support her weight after that. The wind blowing across her bare, sweaty ass gives her goosebumps. Trevor pulls his trousers back on and she bids farewell to the glorious sight of his ass. He may be nasty and he may be mean but he is mighty fucking fine. Earline isn't sure what to make of the mix of emotions he's bringing out in her. She doesn't know him very well but she's really starting to like him. That screw didn't help her much either.


	3. Strangers Like Me

The screen on Trevor's phone lights up as his ringtone chimes. As soon as he glimpses Michael's name on the caller ID, he runs his thumb across the screen to hang up. Not now, Mikey. He runs his fingers through the mass of dirty blonde hair as Earline's head bobs up and down in his groin. She's paying her rent for the day. He wonders if she's ever resorted to hooking because he hasn't had his dick hoovered this hard in years. She runs her nasty tongue along just the right spot and he lets out a cry of pleasure. His trailer already stank to high hell but now it just absolutely reeks of sex. Trevor shudders as another wave of ecstasy rolls over him. The springs of his bed squeak with the rhythm of his desperate thrusts. He doesn't even care if she chokes on his dick. She gags and coughs as he pumps into her mouth.

Trevor digs his fingernails into her scalp as he forces her head down to meet his thrusts. Jesus Christ, he's going to explode in her mouth any fucking minute now. Trevor's face contorts with the orgasm that slowly over takes him. A guttural cry escapes from his open mouth when the blissful release finally comes. He falls back onto the bed. His chest heaves with every desperate breath he takes. Earline's head pops up from between his knees with that toothy grin on her face. Her teeth are too fucking disgusting for that smile to be even remotely fucking charming but, somehow it is to him. She wipes the excess cum from her face and licks it off of her fingers. It would be enough to make him hard again if he wasn't bone fucking dry now.

"That tasted like shit, Beer Can," Earline teases.

He's too exhausted to smack her. She's just spewing that bullshit to get him riled up. For some fucking reason she seems to get off on getting him going. He's not really a fan of the new fucking nickname either especially when she rattles that shit off in front of Ron or Wade.

"Yeah, well, you can start bitching about how my jizz tastes when you have another means to pay your rent," Trevor growls.

He watches the muscles in her slender arms bulge as she pulls herself onto the bed. She's in a chipper fucking mood today. It's been strange having a girl around the Philips' residence again. It's not at all like it was when Patricia was here. The place is even more of sty than before Earline moved in. He tripped over one of her spit filled cans last night and threw a fucking tantrum. Now there's a sticky, shit colored splotch on his kitchen tile. It could very well be an improvement on the current décor though.

"You wanna smoke up?" Trevor asks.

"No," Earline says.

He asks her every damn day and she's still too stupid to say yes. The kid doesn't know what she's missing out on. Meth is a performance enhancing drug and she still could stand for some enhancement. He rolls over and gropes for his pipe on the bedside table. Earline kicks her stub up into the air as she straps her prosthetic back on. That shit never gets old to watch. It's a fucking trip but she doesn't seem to care that he's always staring at her while she does it. He brings the lighter to the end of the pipe and the tiny white flame ignites.

That blissful familiar feeling washes over him as he inhales. Trevor lets out a groan of pleasure as the sweet smoke flows through his lungs. It'll never be the same as his first time. He's not a fucking idiot but it certainly still makes him feel like he's the king of the fucking world. He hates how Earline is always right up his ass when he's smoking up though. She wouldn't be so god damn bored if she just got high with him. Sometimes she was like a fucking fly buzzing in his ear. He just wanted to swat the ever loving Christ out of her until she fucked off.

"Is that your shit you're smoking?" Earline asks.

What stupid fucking question. He wants her to get the fuck out of his face so he can smoke his crystal in peace.

"Of course it is," Trevor says. "I wouldn't smoke anything else."

The thin wisps of blue smoke swirl in the stagnant air of his bedroom. He brings the glass pipe to his lips and takes another hit.

"You ain't shown me the kitchen yet," Earline says. "I'm just curious."

She certainly likes to ask a fuck ton of question but Earline doesn't seem keen on answering too many. He's not such a fan of that. He's contemplated that she might be scoping out his shit for a drug dealer that wants to move into Blaine County. Earline's clever but he doesn't think she's capable of something on that level. At least not fucking yet.

"I'll introduce you to Chef when the time is right," Trevor says. "But for now, could you kindly shut the fuck up?"

Trevor can already feel the buzz coming on. Earline can't keep her damn trap shut for more than five minutes. He's half tempted to shove his dick down her throat again just to keep her from flapping her jaws.

"You ain't gonna check your phone?" Earline asks. "Who called you?"

"What are you a fucking Narc?" Trevor growls. "What's with all the fucking question, huh?"

"I'm just bored," Earline says with a shrug.

Fucking kid. If she's bored she can just go limp her ass out into the living room and watch some fucking TV. Shit though he really doesn't want her to do that. As annoying as she fucking is, he's kind of enjoying having her company.

"How about instead of you grilling the fuck out of me, I get some dirt from you?" Trevor suggests. "I mean how long have you been fucking working for me? Three—four weeks? I need to know the type of people my fine employees are. Did you know Ron used to have a wife? She was a goddamn cunt but he had one."

He remembers Ron's wife had amazing fucking tits but her personality was like a rancid sack of coyote meat. Bitch was holding Ron back. He's much better off now that she's gone. He's still a spineless fucking cockroach but that's a vast improvement from the man he used to be.

"Ain't nothing worth knowing," Earline sighs.

He watches her staring up at the ceiling with a faraway look in her eye. Yeah, if it really wasn't worth knowing she wouldn't have that goddamn look on her face. She's not very good at hiding shit.

"So, you just stumbled into Sandy Shore for the scenic landscape? " Trevor pries. "I know you got a taste for hillbillies and this certainly is a great place to pick them up."

Fuck, the look on her face. It makes him feel like he's talking to his teenage daughter. He has to take another hit of meth after that realization.

"I'm only gonna tell you because I trust you so much," Earline says.

Trust him? There have only been a handful of people in his life that have ever said that to Trevor. One of them stabbed him in the back nearly a decade ago and the other is the wife of a Mexican crime lord in Los Santos. Those are weighty fucking words. He doesn't take that shit lightly.

"If you're yanking my chain I will snap your neck right fucking now," Trevor warns.

She pushes herself up off the mattress and leans against the wall. Shit, she's never had that look on her face before. It's like she's a badass bitch but a scared little girl all at the same time.

"I'm not fooling you," Earline says. "Nobody's ever been as straight up with me as you have and I appreciate it."

Well, that's fucking nice. Ron always blows smoke up Trevor's ass. It's a little too much fucking flattery for his taste. It's not like he hasn't been told how fucking awesome he is before. He knows he's a badass. He doesn't need people to tell him that but he wishes he heard it more often. Hearing it from her is kind of nice. He can't deny that. If she can appreciate the lessons he's trying to teach her, then maybe she's not as stupid as he thought.

"Well well well," Trevor teases. "It looks like your cocky ass has learned some fucking humility."

She narrows those thick fucking brows of hers and he snickers. Pushing her buttons is pretty fucking fun.

"Don't be a crotchety old prick," Earline says. "I'm trying to have a serious fucking conversation here."

He takes another hit and lets the smoke ooze out from between his pink lips. He's really starting to feel it now. He's jiggling his leg he's so antsy.

"Just get on with it," Trevor grumbles. "There's shit to be done today!"

"I was running away," Earline says. "I used to run with this guy Kenny. He had some connections out in Las Venturas. Well, I guess they didn't like him none because one day this mean looking son of a bitch shows up and caps him. So, I ran."

Brad's decomposed face lying in a frozen grave flashes across Trevor's eyes. Rage starts to fill him as he thinks about that day. Michael's his best friend but he's never going to be able to let that go. Brad may have been a dick but Michael is a traitor and that's a million times worse.

"Well, if they wanted you dead, you'd be dead by now," Trevor says.

She scratches her head and he watches the dandruff flakes flutter onto her shoulders like snow.

"I hope so," Earline says. "I don't want to stir up no trouble for you, Beer Can."

She should just take his goddamn word for it and let it go. Trevor's been around long enough to know how those kind of people operate. She was a mess when he found her and he's damn certain that nobody would give a flying fuck about her. She wasn't a threat. She will be one day but only because of his hard work. The crystal is coursing through his system now. He doesn't want to lie in bed staring at her tits. There's shit he needs done.

"You wanna see the kitchen, then?" Trevor says.

Her face lights up and he feels like he's a fucking god.

"Fuck yeah I do," Earline says. "I ain't never seen a genuine meth lab before."

She's definitely got a few screws loose. Granted, Trevor had always fantasized about being a successful drug lord so he wasn't really in the position to judge her. In fact, he was more than pleased with her enthusiasm. He needed that type of attitude at TP Inc. Hopefully her competence would catch up with that passion soon.

"Then get off your ass and get ready," Trevor says.

She bounds off into the living room which is pretty fucking hysterical to watch since she's about as nimble as a fucking tranquilized rhino. Trevor grabs his pistol off the nightstand and shoves it down his waistband. He might stop and have them hold up a liquor store on the way. Fuck he could rob twenty fucking liquor stores he feels so damn good right now. He's got to get Earline her own piece first before they go too gung ho with that shit though.

"I need a gun?" Earline hollers from the main room.

Shit, she's just as excited as he is at the prospect of getting into some serious shit.

"Yeah, grab what you think you need," Trevor says.

She's too fucking dumb to know what she really needs. But it'll be damn hilarious to see whatever she digs out of the broom closet. He snatches a crusty shirt off of the garbage littered floor. He gives it a quick sniff before he decides the stench is tolerable enough that he can wear it. He can barely make out the faded logo on the black fabric anymore. He doesn't even remember where he fucking got it. By the way it's pulled tight across his shoulders he suspects it might be Wade's. He emerges from his bedroom to see Earline with a submachine gun in her hands and a smile on her face. It wouldn't be his first choice but he's impressed. He certainly thinks she can handle it alright. The excitement in her eyes reminds him of how it felt to pull the Big One.

After that, he worried it would just be like it was with crystal. Chasing after that first high that will never be the same again. There's a good fucking chance nothing will ever live up to that day but he's not willing to give up on the pursuit of that orgasmic feeling. He hadn't planned on bringing Earline along for that ride. He hadn't expected her to stick around this long. Either he was going to smash her thick skull in or she was going to take off. Neither of those has happened yet. It's possible though they still could but if she does run off he'll track her limping ass down and bury an axe in the back of her head.

* * *

Earline doesn't know what she expected a meth lab to look like but it certainly wasn't this. Every step she takes she's crushing some type of life form beneath her cowboy boots. There's no way to tell what color the paint on the walls used to actually be. The walls are coated with so much graffiti and unidentifiable substances that she's afraid to touch them. The smell is impossible to describe. It's absolutely awful and makes her feel light headed. This guy Chef hasn't said boo to her either. She watches the man with a mohawk parade around steaming beakers and glass containers in a well rehearsed manner. She's not exactly sure what goes into making this shit but she doesn't really want to know.

She's been considering trying it. Trevor always seems so fucking pumped after he smokes up. She ain't dumb. She knows that shit can fuck you up hard core. The last thing Earline wants is to look like one of those scab faced freaks with black teeth and no body fat what so ever. But what harm could be done if she just tried it once? Earline's got some guts; she'd be able to resist the temptation of doing it again. Trevor cracks that crooked grin after he tells some stupid joke to Chef. Shit, she likes watching him smile.

She runs her fingertips along the rough surface of one of the tables. Her eyes keep darting up to see if Trevor even notices her. A filthy glass pan lies on the table top with a layer of milky colored crystals spread out across the base. She glances back up at Trevor again before she plucks one of the rocks from the pan. She rolls it around between her fingertips and sniffs it. What's the big fucking deal over such a little thing? People kill for this shit, don't they?

"Put that back," Chef says.

She rightly could've shit her pants when she heard his voice. She puts the crystal back and tries to play dumb.

"I told you not to fucking touch anything!" Trevor scolds her.

Fuck, she can feel the heat rushing into her cheeks as she blushes. She just really wants to know. It's the dumbest fucking idea she's ever had but she's just too damn curious. Earline knows Trevor would let her try some in a heartbeat, she's just nervous to ask anything more from him. He's been offering it to her a lot. She's been saying no because it seems like that's what one's supposed to do in this line of work. You make the product and sell it but you don't use. Trevor uses though and it doesn't seem to be interfering too much with his business. The little crystalline rocks are just taunting her now.

"Uh—Trevor," Earline says.

Fuck, she sounds like a toddler. Her voice is so quiet she's afraid he didn't hear her. Maybe it would be better if he didn't. She doesn't want to admit, after all the times she's turned him down, that she's secretly wanted to try. Now she's got to own up to the fact that she was lying. He's going to give her hell for this.

"T-Trevor?" Earline says again.

"Um Trevor? Trevor!" He mocks in a high pitched voice.

Fuck him, how is it he's able to piss her off in the span of two seconds?

"What? Fucking what?" Trevor snaps.

Earline chews on her bottom lip. He's just looking at her with those angry brown eyes and she feels even more nervous about making this request. And now Chef is just staring at her with that weird fucking gas mask on his face. Jesus, all eyes are literally on her.

"Could I maybe try some of this here—" Earline says.

Trevor erupts with laughter. The sound is so loud she feels her heart jump. She can't really make out Chef's face but he seems completely unsurprised by her remark. Trevor is just oozing with an aura of smug satisfaction. She knew he was going to make this harder for her. She should've tried to get some shit from one of those other doofs. At least they wouldn't have made her feel this way. Why is it she feels this way?

"Really?" Trevor says. "After all the shit you've given me for using? You want to fucking try it?"

God, he's only making her feel worse.

"Yeah, I know," Earline groans. "Can you just let me try some?"

He saunters over to her with that stupid fucking grin on his face. If he weren't so damn pretty she'd slug him for giving her such a hard time.

"Oh no, I'm not making this easy for you," Trevor hisses. "I've offered you more free samples than I have ever offered to any other employee of Trevor Philips Industries, so no, I am not just going to fucking hand the pipe to you."

His gruff voice is dripping with delight. Why's he got to torment her like this? Can't he just let her eat crow and move the fuck on? She's just fucking curious. He doesn't have to be such a dick. Trevor's got a twinkle in his eye though. He's up to something. His smile only grows wider, bringing out the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"You've turned down all the free rides I've been offering," Trevor goes on. "So now you've got to earn the privilege to try Chef's shit-which he has a just gourmet fucking recipe might I add."

Whatever cockamamie scheme Trevor's cooking up has her pretty fucking excited. Trevor's pretty hyped up right now and his energy is just seeping into her very soul. She wants to know what it's like to feel that way, every damn day of her life.

"I'm in the mood for some havoc," Trevor declares. "Chef, I'm taking this little troll out for a good old fashioned stick up. You good here cooking?"

A robbery? Shit, Earline's stuck up a few gas stations before. Her gun wasn't loaded and she barely got jack and shit. She and Kenny weren't exactly intimidating. Usually they just ended up hauling ass trying to get away from the coppers. Earline was pretty eager to find out what it was like to get high but she's even more desperate to do this with Trevor. He's been doing this for a long fucking time and he seems to know how to have a fucking blast while doing it. She wants him to show her how he does this. She wants to learn how to be like him.

"Really?" Earline asks.

She's embarrassed at how excited she sounds. Fuck, could she sound any more fucking immature? He probably thinks she's the biggest pain in the ass that's ever existed.

"Yes fucking really," Trevor snickers. "C'mon let's get the fuck out of here and if you impress me-well, I'll let you smoke up."

Earline feels a swell of excitement building up in her chest. It's like her heart is going to explode it's so goddamn full. She's never felt this way before and she's not even sure how to describe it. Trevor's showing her a whole new world and she can't get enough of it. He makes her work for shit but it don't feel like work at all. It's like everything she's ever wanted is being handed to her on a silver platter. She wants to know everything there is to know about running drugs and robbing folks. Not doing it like she was before, but properly, like Trevor does it.

She can barely keep up with him as they thunder down the rickety stairs. Earline nearly face plants when she stumbles over the bottom step. He moves like a fucking panther and she's in awe of him. He's really good at making her feel stupid but she don't mind that none. She kind of hates him a bit for that. Shit, she's got plenty of reasons to hate him. He's mean and rude and treats her like she ain't got no brains but she feels this growing need to gain his approval. Everything he does, every facial twitch and loud burp, it's all so mesmerizing to her.

He holds the door for her and white sunlight streams into the dimly lit store front, lighting up the liquor bottles like lanterns. Goosebumps erupt across her flesh as she steps outside and the hot desert air blasts her in the face.

"You got your gun still?" Trevor asks.

He's still beaming with enthusiasm and she can't help but smile. Her cheeks ache from how fiercely she's grinning.

"Yeah," Earline says. "I've done this before, you know."

He climbs into the truck and she scrambles after him. It's hard for her to keep up with him sometimes but she refuses to let her bum leg get in the way.

"But have you done it the right way?" Trevor teases.

He starts up the truck and the engine roars to life.

"Is there a right way?" Earline says.

He cuffs her in the head. Apparently, there fucking is.

"Yes, you ignorant inbred fuck!" Trevor growls. "Now you better do what I fucking say or I'm not giving you shit!"

He's got his game face on now. She tries to get a hold of her excitement. She really wants this to go well. It's never turned out good for her in the past but that was before she knew that there was a whole mess of things she didn't know about. The desert landscape flies by them in a blur as they barrel down the two lane highway.

"Well, you got masks right?" Earline asks. "I know we need those."

His deep cackle indicates to Earline that she's wrong. Now that is just a pile of shit right there.

"Masks?" Trevor says. "No no no no-you only need those for some serious shit. We're just popping by the Twenty-four-seven. We don't need that shit."

He swerves around a rusted out RV and guns it. Her body jerks from the momentum as the truck weaves through the traffic.

"What about the cops?" Earline says.

Now she's not so sure that he has a better way of doing this than she does. But she doesn't know Sandy Shores like Trevor does. She'll bite her tongue for now.

"Darling," Trevor begins. "You're a resident of Blaine County now. It's a magical place where government officials can be bought off with hookers, dope and just the right amount of cash. I fucking run this place, so if I want to hold up a gas station. I fucking can. Now, I let Ron and Wade handle all the bribery. On occasion I may have to force them to suck a few dicks but they get the job done."

She wouldn't mind sucking a few dicks. Does he really have this much fucking power? If that's the case than Earline stumbled into the right fucking town.

"So we just run in there, guns a blazing, and walk right back out?" Earline says.

Shit, if that's how this is going down then she regrets ever doubting Trevor for a second.

"Well-it's usually followed by a car chase, that can be fun, depending on what mood you're in," Trevor explains.

Now that's something Earline can get into. It's a crazy fucking plan. If you can even call it a plan but for some twisted fucking reason she feels safe around him. It feels like nothing will ever go wrong with Trevor around. He speaks with such confidence too. She believes him. She really fucking does. With that mischievous gleam in his eye and that crooked smile on his face, she feels pretty content.

"There's nothing to fucking worry about!" Trevor says. "I'm the veteran here. I know what I'm doing, alright?"

His reassurances are starting to erase her doubts. She can see the familiar sprawl of Sandy Shores. Shit, it's going down. Right fucking now. He pulls into the 24/7 parking lot. It's the same one she was running her hustle at. It's not like there's a large selection of gas stations for them to choose from; she really fucking shouldn't be surprised. The idling sound of the engine is engulfed by the screechy music blaring from the truck's speakers. She stares at the orange and green sign. The truck door slams shut and she watches Trevor start heading across the parking lot.

Trevor can hear the sound of Earline limping across the torn up pavement of the parking lot. He genuinely just wants to do this because the mood struck him. He doesn't really care if she knows what she's doing. He's just killing two birds with one stone. Trevor needs to satisfy his violent urges and she needs to learn how to do a legitimate fucking robbery. If she expects to run with him, she needs to be able to do this. He may have stretched the truth a bit to her. Yes, he can buy off the cops but he never actually has. Shit, he certainly fucking has the money to do that now though.

She's got that SMG tucked beneath her brown jacket as she hops along next to him. He digs into his pants and yanks out the handgun. The feeling of the metal brushing across his skin is just way too fucking much. It's a feeling he knows all too well now. He pushes through the swaying glass doors and feels the rush hit him head on. He feels a swell of pride when Earline draws her gun on the other customers without him prompting her. She shrieks at them in her high pitched voice as he points the barrel of his gun at the cashier.

"Gimme all the cash-fucking now!" Trevor roars.

The cashier hesitates and Trevor fires off a shot just an inch away from their pimple covered head. God damn, that's better than cumming. The register dings as the cashier pries it open. Coins clink and bills crinkle as they're stuffed into the flimsy plastic bag. Earline fires off a few warning shots at her hostages and her laughter fills the air. This is the best fucking part right here. He can hear the muffled sirens in the distance. The cashier tosses him the sac of cash. Just for shits and giggles Trevor shoots him in the knee. The scream that little fucker makes is just absolutely fucking divine.

"C'mon, kid, we're out of here!" Trevor orders.

Earline comes bounding after him, her hair bouncing with every stride she takes. She doesn't seem to have too much trouble keeping up with him as they sprint back to the truck. His heart is pounding from the sweet thrill of this moment. He tosses their take into the cab of the truck. It's not the best fucking take of his life but god damn it feels good to be back in the saddle again. He doesn't need this fucking money. It's not about that. It's about feeling like he has a fucking soul again.

They tear out of the parking lot before the cops can even round the corner. He can't help but cackle. His fucking jam is blasting on the radio. It's absolutely fucking perfect. He cranks up the volume on the stereo. Earline is peeking over the back of her seat. She seems ecstatic that the flashing lights haven't popped up behind them. She better fucking get used to that because Trevor never fucks anything up. She's so excited that she's bouncing up and down like a twelve year old at a boy band concert. Why does the sight make him smile so damn much?

"That was the fucking tits!" Earline declares.

It really fucking was. He never could've pulled that shit with Wade or Ron. They don't have the balls or the right instincts for that type of thing. They can get the job done but he has to lay it out for them in kindergarten terms or they just fall apart. Chef would've had no problems with it except he prefers to pull more serious jobs than shit like this.

"You wanna keep the party going?" Trevor asks.

He doesn't need her to answer. The way her face lights up when he asks that tells him everything he needs to know.

"Oh fuck yeah!" Earline shouts.

They go all fucking night. He takes them down the stretch of highway. They stop at every gas station along the way and relieve them of their funds. By the time the sun goes down, they're clear on the other side of Mt. Chiliad. He's absolutely fucking exhausted by the end of it but he feels like a brand new fucking man. The cool of the evening air makes the hairs on his arms stand on end. He parked the truck at one of the cliffside overlooks. The grey ocean waves slam into the rocky cliffs and the white, salty spray explodes into the air. Earline's sitting on the tailgate of his truck; swinging her legs back and forth as she counts up their take. Even in the violet hue of nightfall he can still make out the smile on her face.

The buzz from his crystal is starting to wear off but the high from their reign of violence is still going strong. He can't keep on going though. His body just won't fucking let him. Back in the day, he and Michael could've gone for days doing crazy shit like this. That was a long fucking time ago though and he's a lot fucking older now. He remembers the promise he made to her earlier mostly because he feels the itch to get high again. Even if she decides she's not really up for it, he's still getting lit tonight.

"You wanna smoke up now?" Trevor asks.

Her blonde, frizzy curls bounce as she nods her head. She doesn't give a fuck. That's probably the most money she's seen in her entire fucking life. If only she could see his bank account, than she'd really be shitting her pants. Trevor leans into the cab of his truck. He digs around the empty beer cans and junk food wrappers until he finds his secret stash. The gravel crunches beneath his boots as he walks around the side of the truck.

"What's it supposed to feel like?" Earline asks.

He flicks on the lighter and an orange glow lights up his face as he draws the flame along the end of the pipe.

"How'd it feel when we stuck up those gas stations?" Trevor says.

She takes a damn fucking long time to answer. She runs her fingers along the bills again and again. It's not the same smile that was on her face earlier. It's softer and he can see sadness in her eyes. If she's about to get mushy on him he is not going to fucking put up with that. Why the fuck is it that women always do this shit?

"It felt good," Earline says. "Those don't seem like fitting words but that's all I got."

He knows exactly what she means. There are no words for how this life makes you feel. No one understands it until they've been there and lived it for themselves.

"That's how it's going to feel," Trevor says. "Just like that fucking shit."

He takes a hit and lets out a moan of satisfaction. He hands her the pipe and she takes it between her pink fingers. She just stares at it for a moment. She probably doesn't know what to fucking do. Jesus, he can barely remember being that goddamn naïve. She brings the glass pipe to her lips and inhales. Naturally, she fucks it up. The blue smoke pours out of her mouth as she coughs. She gasps and hacks. Fuck, he can't help but laugh at her. She tries again and this time it goes better. The smoke oozes out from between her slender lips.

He's tempted to warn her that all highs after this one won't even come close but he's not certain that's true anymore. The last time he felt this way, he was pushing a pallet full of gold bars onto an armored truck with Michael by his side. Trevor's not sure why he feels that way. As they pass the pipe back and forth, none of it becomes any clearer to him. The stars begin to twinkle in the inky black sky. Earline's talking at a million miles an hour as she relives every microscopic detail of the day. Trevor fucks her in the bed of his truck. She only begged him for it because of the crystal and he only agreed for the same fucking reason.


	4. Man of the World

Earline's greasy fucking fingers are latched onto Trevor's hands like a leech.

"What's this one mean?" Earline asks.

He glances down to see her running her fingers along the tattoos on his knuckles. This isn't exactly the best fucking time. He's parked out in his front yard on a tattered green recliner with a case of beer at his feet and a wad of cash in his hand. It's so fucking hot today. Wade is going to run some errands for him and Earline has been annoying the fuck out of him the whole goddamn time. She's been prone to asking questions before but today she's getting a bit fucking annoying. She must be on her period or something. Trevor tugs his hand out of her grasp.

"It means exactly what it fucking says," Trevor says. "Fuck cops. It's not that complicated."

He starts counting out the bills for Wade. It's technically Earline's money. Trevor wants her to start pulling her weight more. So, she needs to pay for some shit. Besides he helped her earn this fucking money so he has a right to dictate how it's spent.

"You ever fuck a cop?" Earline asks.

Jesus, can't she go play in traffic or something?

"I dunno-probably- Shut the fuck up," Trevor growls.

He hands Wade the wad of cash. Some would call him stupid for entrusting such a morally weak individual with his money but Trevor knows of a force far more powerful than greed. Fear is what keeps Wade in line. He knows if he double crossed Trevor that his life would come to a rather painful and premature end.

"Now go over the list again, Wade," Trevor says.

Why the fuck does he have to spell everything out for these morons? This shit's getting old.

"Two cases of PissWasser, Cok O Pops, Slick-O-Greese and-" Wade trails off.

Fuck, really? The dumb fuck's memory has gone to shit because he uses so much fucking crystal.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Wade! It's not that fucking complicated. Fucking fish sticks! Not those shitty store brand ones. The legit ones that come in the funny shapes!' Trevor says.

Wade nods and stuffs the money into one of the pockets of his baggy pants.

"Oh!" Trevor says. "And get this dumb cunt a cell phone."

Earline looks so fucking excited that he's pretty sure she's going to piss her pants.

"Really!?" Earline squeals. "Can I get a smart phone? I always wanted one of them!"

He smacks her. She needs that shit sometimes. She gets too fucking worked up and he needs to calm her the fuck down. It seems pretty effective.

"No! No fucking smart phones," Trevor grumbles. "Wade, just get her some shit that can text and make calls. That's all she fucking needs. If you pay more than a hundred bucks for it, you're getting ripped off."

Earline rubs the tender spot on her face where Trevor slapped her. Now she's pouting like a fucking adolescent brat again. He's sick of that shit. He knows she's better than all that. If Wade fucks this up he's going to castrate him and for fucking real this time. If he didn't hate taking care of this bullshit so much he'd just go do it himself. Wade talks to himself like a fucking toddler as he heads off down the street. At least one fucking nuisance is out of his hair. When he feels Earline's fingers pawing over his arm again his brow starts to twitch. Fuck, is he to have no fucking peace today?

"A four leaf clover?" Earline says. "What's that mean?"

Why hasn't he disemboweled her yet and left her disembodied head on his fence post as a warning?

"Again? Why are you so fucking interested in my ink?" Trevor snaps.

She makes that stupid puppy dog face. That shit doesn't work on him. It's too damn hot today and he's too fucking annoyed to want to deal with this. As much as he enjoyed their little jaunt yesterday, he's pretty fucking worn out from it. All of his bones are aching in ways they shouldn't fucking be.

"I'm just curious," Earline says.

"I'm just curious," Trevor mocks.

She hates when he does that and seeing the anger flicker across her expression makes him snicker. He pulls a beer out from the case and snaps it open.

"C'mon, Beer Can!" Earline whines. "Just tell me! I just wanna know is all!"

The last person that was this interested in Trevor was Patricia. Thinking about that angel is too fucking painful for him to dwell on the notion much longer.

"Why don't you go talk to Ron? Get out of my face, let me drink my beer," Trevor says.

"I don't wanna talk to Ron!" Earline says. "He's crazy! You hear the shit that comes out of his mouth? He's a special brand of stupid that one."

He agrees with her completely but she's annoying the ever living Christ out of him.

"I don't fucking care!" Trevor growls. "Go fucking shove a tampon up your twat or braid your hair or whatever stupid shit you girls do."

Trevor brings the can of beer to his lips. As soon as the boiling hot liquid washes over his tongue, Trevor spits it out all over the dry earth. Can he get no fucking breaks today? Really? He's been able to swallow a warm beer in his time but this shit is just too fucking much. It's like it's been sitting in a fucking crock pot all goddamn day. Earline finds the whole situation absolutely fucking hysterical. He chucks the beer at her and it slams right into her stupid fucking face. She falls backwards and a cloud of dust swirls around her. It instantly fucking lifts his spirits. She flails around like a tortoise that's been knocked on its back. He keeps on laughing until she manages to get back to her feet. She looks absolutely fucking ridiculous covered in dirt, eyes wide open with rage, clenching her fists.

"You son of a bitch!" Earline snaps. "I'll skin you alive for that—"

"You're not gonna do shit," Trevor teases.

He knows she fucking won't either. One day she might get fed up enough that she will but he won't have the slightest problem putting her back in her place.

"C'mon, I want some proper fucking booze," Trevor says.

She's not over it. Fucking dumb bitch. She just keeps glaring at him with her tiny fucking mouth scrunched up. If she was aware of how fucking ugly that made her look she probably wouldn't do that shit. Fuck, she probably doesn't even care.

"Don't be a buzz kill," Trevor snaps. "Now, come on we're getting shit faced."

He starts heading over to his truck. If she wants to follow she will. He doesn't really fucking care if she actually does. He can hear the sound of her bum leg dragging across the rocks and he knows she's coming. He's not fucking shocked in the least. She's worse than a fucking puppy. He can't fucking blame her though. He's the fucking shit, he'd be completely enamored with himself too.

"I'm coming!" Earline huffs.

He waits for her to climb into the truck before he takes off. The Yellow Jack Inn still has Trevor officially banned from the bar but that hasn't stopped him from going there. It's not like there's anywhere fucking else for him to go in Sandy Shores. Shit, half of the goddamn town was banned from going there. Earline would most likely end up on that list, maybe even today. The desert breeze feels good as it flows across his balding scalp. Earline reaches into her jacket and pulls out her tin of dip. For some reason she keeps on turning to that shit rather than smoke crystal with him again. It's probably because he wants her to buy her own shit now and she doesn't want to. She's a cheap fucking cunt.

"You ain't gonna tell me about your tats?" Earline asks.

Fuck, can she not let that go? Bitches remember every little fucking thing. You can distract a man with booze or pussy but that shit doesn't work with women.

"You really want to fucking know?" Trevor growls. "Most of them I got in prison. The rest I got when I was kicked out of the Force. It was my way of saying 'fuck you' to the system."

Earline whistles. Great, he gives her one little scrap and now she's going to bombard him with more fucking questions. He walked right into that one. It would've been better if he just tossed her out of the truck.

"You were in the Air Force?" Earline says. "I didn't expect that from you."

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

"Yes, I fucking served my country! What's so hard to believe about that!?" Trevor says.

She giggles like a school girl. Fucking cunt, this isn't something to laugh about. He gave up his god given freedoms to serve and what did they fucking do to him? They tossed him out like rotten pizza because some stupid doctor said he had "psychotic tendencies."

"You're just full of surprises," Earline says. "What'd you do?"

What did he do? He did the only thing in this world that comes even remotely close to making him feel the way that crystal does. It made the blood in his veins turn to fire and ignited the passion within his soul. That's all in ashes now though.

"I was going to be a fighter pilot," Trevor explains. "I didn't get that far though. Apparently, I'm not a 'stable individual.' So fuck them! They missed out on a golden opportunity."

Earline seems absolutely fucking engrossed. Ron still looks at him like that sometimes but Trevor isn't particularly interested in sticking his dick in Ron.

"Wait, so how'd you end up here?" Earline asks. "I mean with Ron and Wade and Chef—"

He rounds the corner a little too quickly and the truck fishtails.

"That's a very long fucking story," Trevor says. "Don't get me wrong, it's very educational but—"

"I want to know," Earline says.

The tone of her voice tells him everything. She sounds like a little kid listening to his grandfather's tales of glory. As much as Ron and Wade worship the ground he walks upon, they never pried this much into his past. It's a little fucking weird but he likes it.

"Well, I met Ron when I moved here," Trevor says. "I was looking to break into the drug dealing game out here. He seemed to know where to obtain the proper resources. His fucking wife just kept getting in the way."

Earline leans her head over the side of the truck and spits.

"So, once I helped Ronald realize that his wife was a hindrance in his life rather than a blessing, he cut her loose," Trevor says. "I know I treat him like shit sometimes but he's got a good head on his shoulders. Well—sort of—but he helped me get Trevor Philips Industries off the ground. I did most of the work of course but, he helped."

He pulls the truck into the Yellow Jack parking lot. It's not even noon but there's already the same busted up cars sitting in the parking lot. The pale green building can't possibly be up to code anymore. This shit should probably be condemned but then there would literally be nothing to do in Sandy Shores except smoke meth. Earline will have to watch her ass in this dump. She may not be the prettiest girl to have walked in there but she's young and horny which is reason enough for the creeps to come after her. Shit, why does he even give a fuck about that?

"What about Wade?" Earline asks as she hops out of the truck.

"Oh now that one's a real sob story," Trevor says.

They pass through the pillars with pealing red paint. The shade of the overhang is making the air about ten degrees cooler than it is in the parking lot.

"His friends just ditched him here," Trevor says. "They abandoned poor stupid Wade and I took him in being the kind hearted soul I am."

That's not exactly what happened but it's not a total lie. Trevor may have assisted in the abandoning bit. He may or may not have dragged Wade's stupid friends out to a quarry and coated the rocks with the pulpy mess of their brains. But Wade needed Trevor's guidance and the only way to get that to happen was to remove those dipshits from his life.

"You make a habit of taking in strays?" Earline teases.

Trevor props open the splintering door for her and she limps into the bar. It's dimly lit and twangy country music is blaring so loudly that it's hurting her ears. It ain't nothing special. The air is filled with a haze of cigarette smoke and it stinks of piss. The crusty old men crouched over the rickety bar stools look like the alcoholics that frequent every bar that looks like this. The bartender is an old woman with a terrible wig and even worse makeup. She sneers as soon as Trevor saunters in behind her.

"You're not welcome here, Trevor!" The bartender snaps.

Well, this little endeavor got cut short didn't it? Trevor pushes by her. He's sure putting on a nice show. He's got such a sweet smile on his face. It doesn't seem to be doing much for the bartender though.

"Hey, can't I just show my lady friend here this fine establishment?" Trevor pleads. "She's new to town and you don't want to make a bad impression do you?"

The bartender narrows her wrinkled eyes and shifts her gaze over to Earline.

"Lady friend?" The bartender asks. "Trevor, is she even old enough to drink?'

Of course she fucking is. Look at this fucking cunt. Trevor just scratches the back of his head and looks Earline up and down. Shit, he doesn't know does he? He seems pretty unsure.

"I'm twenty-two," Earline sighs.

"Yeah see, she's twenty-two," Trevor says. "Besides when has the legal drinking age ever stopped you from serving a customer?"

The bartender shakes her head and her floppy jowls wiggle.

"What'll you have, sweetheart?" she asks.

Trevor claps his hands with delight.

"That's it! See, we'll be on our best behavior-I promise!" Trevor cheers.

He shoves Earline forward and she has to catch herself on the counter top. She hops onto one of the barstools and Trevor pulls up one next to her. Fuck, he's so damn close she can feel his breath tickling her ear. She's getting way too fond of having him this close to her.

"Can I get a shot of tequila?" Earline asks.

The bartender turns around to pull a bottle off of the shelf behind her.

"No, no no!" Trevor says. "That's a girl's drink. You need something that'll put hair on your chest."

"I don't want hair on my chest," Earline says.

The bartender rolls her eyes. Earline gathered that this lady ain't exactly fond of Trevor and she doesn't want to piss her off too much more.

"Whiskey," Trevor orders. "For both of us."

The other men sitting at the bar have been staring at Earline for a damn long time. Shit, she don't mind the attention. They're old but she wouldn't mind giving their pecker's a tug or two in the back alley. Shit, she might do that after a few drinks. The bartender slams chipped, filthy glasses in front of the two them and pours the amber whiskey into them. She slops the liquid all over the bubbling vinyl of the counter top. She doesn't seem to give a flying fuck. This is Earline's type of place. She watches Trevor's lips press against the rim of the glass as he gulps down the whiskey. Some of the booze trickles down the side of his mouth and along the curve of his rugged jaw.

Earline downs the whiskey like its tap water. She's been drinking since she was twelve. She knows how to handle her fucking liquor. Trevor orders them another round. She's pretty sure she can keep up with him so she's not too fucking worried. If she can't, she'll have to put up with the endless barrage of teasing later. She doesn't want to deal with that.

"You told me how you got started in Sandy Shores," Earline says. "But you didn't tell me how you got here."

She's never been this intrigued by a person before. She's dealt with a lot of shitbags in her time. A lot of people have stepped up to the plate and tried to guide her through this mess called life. Most of them just wanted something from her though. She can't fucking tell what Trevor's after. He's been doing her a lot of favors and they certainly ain't worth the pussy she's been giving him. He's seems pretty fucking mean but he's got a soft spot in there. She didn't know that he'd rescued Wade like that. He seems to have a track record of being charitable despite the fucking attitude he puts off.

"Now that's some complicated fucking shit!" Trevor says. "I'm going to need a lot of booze to tell that one."

Fuck, he's interesting. From all those scars on his face she knows he's seen some serious shit. But Earline's encountered plenty of scarred men in her time and she didn't give a rat's ass about their story. What makes Trevor so different?

"Then let's get shit faced." Earline says. "Because I got a mad hankering to know."

Earline loses track of how many shots of whiskey go burning down her gullet. All she knows is that Trevor can hold a hell of a lot more liquor than she can. Just another fucking thing he's better at than she is. She tosses her ratty brown jacket across the bar. Her face is hot and her skin is dripping with sweat. She braces herself against the dusty jukebox and sways back and forth to the Dolly Parton song playing over the sound system. The old bastards are laughing at her. Trevor hollers as he slams another empty shot glass down on the table. His face is flushed from intoxication too but he seems to still be in charge of his faculties.

Fuck, she likes looking at his face. She hasn't forgotten why they're getting this drunk. She's also pretty damn sure that she's not going to remember any of this later. The thin fabric of her tank top is clinging to her sweaty flesh. She just wants to tear it off and feel the air on her skin.

"Earline!" Trevor calls.

She staggers over to him. Shit, she doesn't remember walking being this fucking hard to do. She barely makes it to the chair at his table. The planks of the chair creak as she flops down into the seat.

"You gonna tell me the story, Beer Can?" Earline says.

In her head, she expected that to come out very clearly but her words slur together and she can barely articulate the syllables she needs to. He laughs at her and she wants to cry. He looks so damn pretty when he laughs. It's the most beautiful sight she ever did see.

"You're drunk as fuck!" Trevor teases.

"I been drunker," Earline lies.

Shit, no she fucking hasn't. Trevor sure does have a way of getting her to do crazier shit than she's ever done before.

"I came here because I was on the run. Just like you," Trevor says.

Well shit! Is that why he picked her ass up? He could be full of shit though. He's certainly smiling like he is. She opens her mouth to speak but it takes her too damn long to figure out how to make the words come out.

"A job went south," Trevor goes on. "I thought I lost my best friend."

He pulls up the sleeve of his shirt and shows her the gaudy memorial tattoo on his bicep. She's seen it before. It didn't make too much sense to her. When she asked about the inspiration behind the tattoo, it just seemed to piss him off.

"I thought I was the only one who got away," Trevor says. "I lost everything I fucking had. I hitched it all the way across the States to San Andreas and pulled a lot of shit jobs to get by. Shit that was beneath a man of my fucking caliber."

The smile on his face is starting to fade and Earline feels her heart sink. She don't like this sad look he's got in his eye. She ain't never seen it before.

"I was in a really low fucking place," Trevor explains. "I mean, Michael was the only person on earth that gave a shit about me. I told him things that I never told anybody else. He was my fucking brother and he was gone. I wanted to lie down in that grave with him because I couldn't fucking think of living without having him there. I did some stupid shit. I fucked up some petty job, just like a rookie, and ended up behind bars. "

She don't want to hear this no more. It's making her feel things that she doesn't like to feel. Shit she's been able to ignore since he's been around. Now, here he is digging it all back up.

"Funny thing about prison is it's really good at making you get your shit back together," Trevor says. "So when I walked out of that shithole I came out a new man. The fucking problem is, ten fucking years go by and I find out that all that time I spent mourning my brother-my fucking ally. My partner! It was all a crock of shit!"

He's getting pretty ornery. His brow is starting to twitch and he's got a nasty fucking snarl on his face. Earline's never seen him like this and its scaring the piss out of her. She doesn't have the slightest clue what he's on about now.

"That lying fucking snake!" Trevor seethes. "Fuck I still love him though! I just want to hate him so fucking bad but I fucking can't! After all the shit he's done to me! I came this close to putting him down. I fucking couldn't do it. I could kill any stupid fuck in this room but if you asked me to kill him I couldn't fucking do it, Earl."

She's pretty fucking lost but she's still on the verge of tears. She don't like this part of being drunk; when you stop being horny and giggly and you get really fucking blue. He's got a whole mess of hurt going on inside him that she didn't have a fucking clue about.

"I wanted shit to be the same for us," Trevor says. "It's just not anymore. We're square but—it'll never be the same."

She can understand that type of pain. She's been trying to stuff it down somewhere deep and dark until he pulled it out of her. She really fucking hopes she won't remember this tomorrow. Then she can just go back to pretending that everything is all fucking dandy. She's drunker than a damn skunk and she doesn't want to feel this way. She don't want him feeling this way either.

"I'm gonna suck your dick, alright?" Earline says.

She's finding it rather difficult to keep herself in this chair. It keeps wiggling around and trying to knock her off. Stupid damn thing.

"You're drunk," Trevor says.

Earline tries to reach across the table and grab him by the hand but she makes a right mess of that. She knocks the glasses onto the floor and they shatter into a hundred jagged pieces.

"You're drunk too!" Earline giggles. "And you look so sad; let me put a smile on your pretty face."

"I wanna make someone bleed," Trevor says. "Tell you what, kid, I'll let you pick. If I don't like your choice though, I'll just beat the living shit out of you instead."

She shouldn't find that funny but she certainly fucking does. She points to herself and laughs.

"Beat me up, Beer Can," Earline snickers. "I just wanna make you happy."

She's also pretty damn desperate to stop feeling like this. Getting the shit kicked out of her is the quickest way to make that happen. She remembers laughing and watching that crooked grin spread across Trevor's red face. After that everything is engulfed in a black abyss.

* * *

Trevor grunts as he tosses Earline's limp body onto the bed. He's been banned from the Yellow Jack again. After Earline passed out, Wallis tried to buy a night with her unconscious ass. All Trevor gave Wallis for his money was a black eye and some missing teeth. His truck now has a new set of scratches and dents from the drive home. It doesn't fucking matter to him. He's too drunk to give a shit. He just wants to fuck something or kill something. The alcohol has allowed his broken dreams and failed plans from the past to come haunting him again. He slaps her a few times and she groans. Wake the fuck up, bitch. He starts to strip her down, yanking off the pair of his sweatpants that she's been wearing for the past few days. Earline mumbles something incoherent as he tosses her pants across the room.

In the heat of the afternoon he sweats like a pig. It's not enough to stop him. He needs this. He needs to forget about Michael's blue eyes and the way they've been judging him ever since their reunion. Earline seems to be groping for something but she can't command her limbs to do what she asks. She's not going to remember this. He could do whatever the fuck he wants to her. He undoes his pants and watches her squirm around on the bed.

"Earl?" He coos.

She mumbles and her eyes flutter open. Shit, she is absolutely fucking gone.

"Time to pay rent," Trevor hisses.

He's not sure if she's trying to nod or if she's having a seizure. He runs his hands along the surface of her thighs, pushing them apart slowly.

"Trevor—" Earline mumbles.

Earline braces herself on Trevor's arms and pulls herself up. She's such a mess that she nearly falls back onto the mattress again. She has to wrap her slender arms around his neck to hold herself up. She nuzzles her face into his neck and her rancid hair brushes against his cheek.

"I'm sorry about that stuff with your boyfriend," Earline says.

Her words are blending together so badly that he's having a hard time understanding her.

"I don't never wanna see you sad," Earline says. "You're a good man—"

The room feels like its spinning. He's drunk off his ass too but these are sobering words.

"You're the closest thing I ever had to a proper family," Earline says. "I wanna stay here forever."

Her head slumps back and her body goes limp. She flops back down onto the mattress and the rusty old springs squeak. Even as intoxicated as he is, all desire to screw her has slipped away. Staring at her half naked body lying in his bed; all he sees is a little girl. Trevor pushes her onto her side and pulls her wild hair away from her face. He's never turned down a free fuck. Not a single fucking time in his entire life. As he pulls the stained comforter over her, he hears her words again in his head.

They don't make him feel the same way that Patricia's kind words made him feel. It's stirring up a different kind of emotion that he hasn't felt in nearly a decade. The last time he felt this way was when little Tracey Townley was bouncing on his knee with chubby cheeks and a toothless smile. Trevor gingerly closes the bedroom door behind him. He leans against the flimsy surface and stares at the bathroom door. He manages to make his way into the cramped room even though it feels like the trailer floor is rocking like a row boat. He leans against the bathroom wall and starts jerking it. He curses himself for not taking advantage of the inebriated girl lying in his bed. He doesn't like feeling this confused, especially when he's shit faced. He's supposed to feel good and engage in mindless fucking and violence, not like this. Jesus, he's jerking off into a fucking toilet again. He hates how fucking mixed up she's making him feel.

When Wade returns with groceries, Trevor slaps him around for no good reason. It's not enough to satiate the growing rage he's feeling. He drinks himself into oblivion. Trevor wants to smudge out these feelings from existence. Things never really made sense to him in this fucked up crazy world but lately it's been worse. He remembers how Tracey acted like he was a god and how he swore to never let any harm come to her. He remembers the big dimples in her cheeks when she smiled and the way she ran to him every time he came to visit. He thinks about the way she looked up at him when he held her tiny hand as they crossed the street. Earline looks at him with that same light in her eyes.


	5. I'm Not Moving

Earline raps her fingers on the steering wheel of the black Dune Buggy. She's a confident driver; at least she was before Trevor Philips came into her life. She fucked around at demolition derbies when she was younger but that doesn't take a single iota of skill. The yellow sand of the McKenzie Airfield runway swirls in the wind. The headset's radio crackles with static as she waits anxiously to hear Trevor's voice. It's certainly a beautiful fucking day for weapons trafficking in Blaine County. There isn't a cloud in the blue sky and a pleasant breeze alleviates the stifling heat.

The sound of Trevor's helicopter is deafening as it hovers over the airstrip. She knows he'll have her back this whole run but she's still shitting herself. He's never given her this much freedom for any task he's assigned her. She was pretty keen on the idea this morning but now that she's sitting here in this Dune Buggy the pressure to perform well is getting to her. She doesn't want to fuck this up. She doesn't get it but she's been feeling this growing need to impress him. When he gives her a pat on the back and tells her she's done good, well, there's no finer feeling in the world.

"You hear me, Earl?" Trevor asks over the crackling radio.

She adjusts the volume on her headset. It doesn't fit her too well. It's meant for a man's head.

"Loud and clear, Beer Can," Earline says.

She can't decide if it's better that he's going to be watching her every move like a hawk or if she'd prefer to have him driving the Buggy himself with her in tow. She hasn't even left the airstrip yet and she's already terrified. Earline knows that freaking out leads to mistakes and mistakes lead to prison. She's not particularly interested in prison since there wouldn't be too many dicks to suck there.

"You're going to need to stay off the main roads," Trevor explains. "Now, I'll be spotting for you so just follow me. You'll know you're at the pickup point when you see the smoke signal, alright?"

It seems simple enough. She's used to rough driving; she can handle a little off road adventure. This rust bucket seems sturdy enough to handle it. He makes it sound so fucking easy. Shit, it should be. So why is she still shitting her pants?

"I got it," Earline says.

She does. She just needs to keep reminding herself that she's got this. Trevor says he's done this a thousand times before. It's cake.

"Don't you worry your lice infested head," Trevor teases. "If anything goes wrong: I'm right here."

She draws far too much comfort from his reassurance. Earline expects him to say something more to her before he takes off but that doesn't happen. She watches the sleek black helicopter dip as it moves off into the hills. Shit! She floors it and the little Buggy's engine roars. Dust and rocks are kicked up into the air as she peels off after him. It's hard for her to keep track of him. The helicopter gains altitude quickly and it doesn't take long before it looks like a tiny junebug off in the distance. She knows why he's doing it this way. It'd look mighty strange for a helicopter to be flying around with a Dune Buggy buzzing along behind it. That don't mean she has to like it though.

As she rides across the rocky landscape, the Buggy jerks her around so much that her headset nearly falls off. They start to creep into terrain that's slightly lusher. Dry sand gives way to yellow grass and prickly green shrubbery. She catches quite a few branches in the face as she tries to keep up with Trevor. With every bounce of the Buggy the more she feels at ease. This shit's pretty fun. She's got this. It's just like going off-roading except there's a weapons cache waiting for her crippled ass to pick it up. It'll go fine. She doesn't know why she was so worked up. When it's all over, Trevor will take her to go get some dip and they'll probably have a good screw.

The yellow smoke starts to rise up over the hill tops. She watches Trevor's helicopter circle around the pickup zone. He's not going to say a peep to her. Shit, he could be jerking off up there for all she knows. He's being really fucking hands off with this little run. He's never done that before. The Buggy's sad little engine has to really push itself to the limit in order to climb over the steep hill. The package is sitting a few yards away from the giant bonfire generating the smoke signal. It looks just like any plain old package. It's wrapped up in brown paper with twine tied around it. She pulls the Buggy up next to it. Trevor said she wouldn't even have to get out and he was right.

She does a quick drive by and scoops up the package. Goddamn it's heavy. It's full of assault rifles according to Trevor. She tosses it into the back of the Buggy. Before she even realizes it, Trevor's already making his way back to the airfield. The thunderous sound of the helicopter is joined by a chorus of half a dozen motorcycles. Her blood turns to ice when she sees the leather clad bikers come tearing up the gravel road.

"Trevor-" Earline stammers.

The Lost have come to retaliate for their little shooting lesson and she's all by herself. She guns it right fucking for them. They'll have to turn around to come after her and that should buy her some time. Jesus, she's in this stupid Dune Buggy though. They'll catch her if she makes one wrong fucking move.

"Trevor!" Earline screams.

The helicopter swings back around and soars over her head. She grits her teeth as she barrels past two of the angry bikers. Bullets whiz by her head and ricochet off of the rusted metal of the Buggy.

"Stop pissing yourself!" Trevor teases over the headset. "So some pussies decided to join us for the party? We're fine."

She glances over her shoulder at the cloud of dust that's engulfed the bikers. It's the worst thing she could've done. In the split second that she took her eyes off the road the Buggy slams into a rock and rolls on its side. She tumbles down the hill. The weapons package goes flying and the Buggy is transformed into a heap of twisted, smoking metal. The gravel shreds her skin like a fucking cheese grater. The Buggy slams into the side of a hill and the contents of the package lay scattered over the ground. She coughs as smoke billows up from the wreckage. They'll be right on top of her in minutes.

Her heart skips a beat when she realizes she can't hear the crackle of the radio. Her headset is gone. By some fucking miracle her prosthetic is still attached. She's got that going for her at least. Her eyes dart along the scene of destruction hoping to catch a glimpse of the headset. The roar of the Lost's motorcycles grows louder as they draw nearer. The headset lies in a mangled, dusty mass in the middle of the road. Fuck! Even if she runs for it, she won't be able to get it in time. They'll just run her down like a fucking deer.

Trevor's still circling over head. She's not alone. He won't let her die here. Earline snatches up a magazine and rifle before she crawls behind a boulder. She fumbles with the rifle until she finally gets the magazine to slide into the gun. He never showed her how to use a gun like this. Fuck, but she doesn't really have time right now to cry about it. Her heart is racing and she whimpers when a bullet slams into the rocky face behind her head. She can hear bullets bouncing off of the hull of the helicopter. Jesus, is he losing altitude? It looks like he's creeping lower and lower. She can see his arm stretched out of the pilot's seat taking pot shots at the bikers. If he's going to try to land, he really is fucking insane.

Earline runs her hands along the gun and pulls back on a lever that seems like it should be the safety. She won't have the luxury of time to line up a shot. But if she doesn't take some of these fuckers down she's not getting out of here alive. Earline pops out from behind the rock and fires off a spray of bullets at the bikers. She manages to take a few of them down but recoils when she feels the agonizing sting of a bullet bursting through the flesh of her arm. She screams as she clutches the wound. Blood seeps through the sleeve of her jacket and douses her fingers in the crimson sticky fluid.

Trevor tilts the blades of the helicopter closer to the heads of the Lost MC. He doesn't intend to hit them. If he can scare them off, it'll give Earline a chance to climb onto the chopper. He fires off another round and watches a biker's head explode with a fountain of blood. They're going to lose this shipment. Oscar is going to be pissed and Trevor's going to owe him five grand. If Earline doesn't die here, he may kill her his fucking self. He has to pull the chopper back up to avoid the barrage of bullets that the bikers are assaulting him with.

He swings back around the hilltop. It's like herding fucking cattle. He can see Earline pop out from behind her cover again. She fires off another spray of bullets before ducking behind the boulder. Shit, they're actually picking these fuckers off. The last of the Lost jump onto their bikes and try to haul ass. They've got them on the fucking run! This is the absolute fucking best. Trevor brings the helicopter right over their greasy fucking heads. One of them falls off of his bike he's so terrified. Trevor bears down on the final biker. He won't let this bastard get away.

Trevor swerves around, cutting off the biker's escape route. The dumb fuck has nowhere to go but over the cliff. He tries to turn the bike around, but ends up sliding down the hillside. Trevor cackles as he watches him tumble down to his death. Those bastards all got what they fucking deserved. It's fucking Darwinism at work. He pulls back on the yolk and the helicopter rises back into the air. Now he has to go rescue the queen of fuck ups. He's going to rip her a new one when he gets there.

Earline's is gathering the rifles into a pile when he brings the chopper down in the road. Leather clad bodies and motorcycles litter the roadway. They won't have much time before more Lost show up to try and finish the job and this dumb bitch is limping around trying to salvage the score. That's a level of dedication that he's pretty fucking pleased to see. Shit, from the looks of things she got hit during the firefight. He hops out of the chopper to help her. She's got a gimpy arm now to go with her fucking peg leg. Jesus Christ, he's amazed this kid isn't wheelchair bound with her luck.

"You owe Oscar a new Dune Buggy!" Trevor growls.

It won't take her long to pay for this fuck up but he's not telling her that. Earline starts dragging the rifles over to the chopper. Trevor's been shot plenty of times. He knows that she's in a shit load of pain. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't impressed with her. Her ego is what's really smarting right now though. He can see it in her eyes. They load the last of the haul into the chopper. This isn't a total fucking loss. It could be a lot worse but he's not going easy on her. No one was ever soft on him and look how he turned out.

She doesn't have one fucking complaint on the flight back to the airfield. Earline has tears streaming down her filthy face but her lips are sealed. Damn, the kids got iron fucking guts.

"That should've gone better," Trevor seethes. "You could've lost those dumb asses in the hills easily. You got scared didn't you? That's when you fuck things up! You need to keep your head when shit like that goes down or you'll end up dead. You're really fucking lucky."

She won't look at him. God, this is too fucking ridiculous. She needs to get the fuck over it. Shit like this will happen again and again. If she gets all hormonal over every fucking mishap then she'll never make it in this business.

"What? You fucking mute now?" Trevor presses. "You have nothing to fucking say? That's fine! I've got plenty to fucking say! What the fuck were you thinking, huh? If I hadn't been there you would be Swiss fucking cheese right now! Why weren't you paying attention? You need-"

"Just fucking shut up!" Earline screams. "I know I fucked up okay!? Just leave me alone!"

Oh shit, she's crying. She's bawling like a baby that's just shit its fucking diaper. She's getting dirt, blood and snot all over his fucking chopper too.

"Would you fucking let me finish!?" Trevor roars. "Stop fucking crying you goddamn pussy!"

Earline makes some loud gurgling noises as she tries to swallow her sobs. She wipes the thick, bloody snot on her sleeve. She keeps on sniveling and it's the best he's going to get out of her right now.

"Now—" Trevor begins.

Holy shit, his voice hasn't sounded like this since he was reading bedtime stories to Tracey when he was babysitting her.

"You need to pat yourself on the back, kid," Trevor says. "You didn't get out clean but you salvaged the payload. That goes a long fucking way with me."

Earline snorts as she tries to sniffle up the snot in her nose. She says nothing. For once she has nothing to fucking say. He can see the familiar stretch of runway from McKenzie Airfield below them.

"Oscar?" Trevor says over the radio. "I've got the payload."

He glances over at Earline before he brings the helicopter in for the descent. She's staring at the blood glistening on her fingertips and gnawing on her bottom lip. He used to be like this. He used to tear himself apart for stupid mistakes like that. Usually this resulted in a pile of dead bodies being dumped out in the wilderness. He's not sure if she's up for that.

"Glad to hear it!" Oscar says over the radio. "Run into any trouble?"

Oscar should know by now there's always trouble to be had running guns in Blaine County. This isn't the messiest run he's done but it certainly wasn't as uneventful as he had expected.

"Nothing we couldn't handle!" Trevor declares.

* * *

Every time Trevor's beat-up truck jostles, pain shoots through Earline's arm. She's got every reason to be upset with how today turned out. Her mangled arm is tucked in a cheap sling and she won't have any painkillers for it except the booze lying around Trevor's trailer. Ron and Wade are having a fucking hootenanny in the bed of the truck. Trevor made a big fucking deal of the endeavor. Earline's first gunshot was cause for celebration at Trevor Philips Enterprises. Or Industries? Fuck, she doesn't even care. The way he looked at her while she was getting stitched up at the veterinarian's office; it was better than morphine.

They run over a coyote and Ron's beer sloshes down her back. Any other day and she would've clocked him in the face for that but she just laughs. Shit got really scary on that weapons run but they made it out. They fucking made it out and still delivered the payload. Trevor holds his hand out for his beer again. She slides the brown bottle into his grasp. He grips onto that fucker just like it's his cock. She's in a lot of pain and the emotional roller coaster she went on today has left her exhausted. But she's still horny as fuck. He gave her a boat load of shit for wrecking the Buggy but she can't get over what he said to her.

All her life, Earline was told how much of a useless fuck up she was. Ain't nobody ever said a nice thing to her and meant it. She watches Trevor guzzle down the beer and slop it all over his shirt. Watching the sticky liquid slide down the curves of his muscles only makes the situation in her pants worse. She wouldn't mind licking that PissWasser off his bare skin. Their relationship is becoming a tad more complicated. She still wants to bang the shit out of him on a daily basis but he's been such a good friend to her. It's easier to just keep on going as if nothing has changed rather than try and sort it all out.

Wade begs for Trevor to tell the story again. She'll be sick of this eventually but she loves hearing him tell it. He calls her an idiot and a whole slew of other nasty things. Then he gets this glint in his eye and brags about how she helped him cut down every last one of those Lost sons of bitches. He makes it sound like she was so brave. She was shitting her pants the whole time and the only reason she tried to salvage the payload was because she knew he'd gut her if she didn't. Earline prefers his embellished interpretation of the events. The number of bikers they killed keeps growing with every telling. Shit, if she could hold onto the way she's feeling right now, forever, that would be better than heaven. The sunset that they're racing away from is the most beautiful one she's ever witnessed. It's a swirl of shades of pink and orange that she never thought possible. The glistening Alamo Sea is to their right and she can feel the cool breeze come rustling through her hair.

She's warming up to Ron and Wade but she's hoping they don't stick around this evening. She already paid her rent today but she's after something from Trevor anyway. Trevor's weaving through the Route 68 traffic like he's on a mission. Maybe he's got the same thing on his mind and if that's the case she's even more eager. He tosses the empty beer bottle at a passing car and cackles with delight when it smashes into their windshield. He orders Ron and Wade to do the same but they don't hit nobody. She's starting to care less and less about their presence. She wants it pretty bad. Maybe she's a bit woozy from the blood loss but she never really had proper judgment to begin with so what the hell?

She leans over and buries her face in his lap. The musky stench of his sweat soaked pants just makes her want him that much more.

"Um—Trevor," Wade protests.

The truck swerves back and forth as Trevor struggles to keep it steady.

"Trevor!" Wade whines.

It gets harder for Earline to keep her lips wrapped around his shaft when Trevor pulls the truck off the pavement. It jerks and bounces as he tries to steer it through the hills toward the sandy coast. The truck lurches once Trevor brings it to a halt in the white sands.

"Out! Fucking out now!" Trevor roars.

He doesn't need to tell them again. Earline is beyond caring at this point. The back of the truck dips as Ron and Wade scramble out of it. Trevor laces his fingers through her mass of hair. He pulls her head back. Seriously? Earline yanks her head out of his grasp and takes him back into her mouth. His hips buck to meet her, just like riding a mechanical bull. She might even chip a tooth too. This time he jerks her head back with such force that she can't ignore him. His cheeks are flushed and beads of sweat cling to the stubble of his upper lip. She just wants to do this for him, that's the only thing in the universe she desires right now.

"You did me proud today," Trevor coos.

She can't rightly let that go. She tries to lean back in to keep sucking him off but he pulls her head back. He just shakes his head. God, she wants this more badly than she wants a fix of dip. Why's he got to be teasing her all the time? If he's so pleased with how today went, can't he just let this happen? He pushes open the door and slides off the seat. Is he really going to leave her hanging like this? She watches him circle the front of the truck. She can still taste the salty flavor his cock on her tongue. His eyes are still locked on her. He's fixing to do something. She ain't got a clue but it better involve his cock or she's going to throw a fit.

Trevor pulls open the passenger door. A chill runs right through her when his shadow falls over her. She don't know what to say to him. The look in his eyes is scary and unfamiliar but Earline feels like a deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming car. Trevor could beat the shit out of her right here or do something she desperately wants him to.

He grabs her by the hips and pulls her closer to him. The belt loops in the baggy pants tear as he tugs on them so roughly. Another pair of pants ruined and she gives no fucks.

"Pants off," Trevor whispers.

His gruff voice makes her swoon. Shit, he makes her feel like a blushing virginal debutant. She's fucked more guys than she can remember but none of them did a number over her like Trevor does. She fumbles with the buttons. Her hands are shaking she wants him so bad. She don't even care what he's about to do to her. She squirms on the dusty seat as she wriggles her way out of the pants. She starts to laugh nervously when they get caught on her prosthetic. Why does this shit always happen at the absolutely worst fucking times?

Trevor slides her jeans gently over the hard surface of her fake leg. She don't mind that none. She can't feel any of it but it's certainly doing wonderful things for her. Wade calls Trevor's name from down shore.

"Shut the fuck up!" Trevor roars.

He tosses her pants into the sand. All she can hear is the sound of the water gently lapping at the muddy shore line. He cracks that crooked grin and her heart melts.

"You did good today, Earl," Trevor says. "I got something special for you."

Oh God, please let it be what she thinks it is. She about dies when he brushes those juicy lips of his along her inner thigh. It's like a demon has taken hold of her body. She writhes and whimpers with every flick of his tongue. If this is how he's going to reward her for every job well done than she will never leave his employ. He'll have to kill her first. His pretty mouth is everything she dreamed of and much more. He teases her to the point that she's begging for him to let her finish. Every inch of her body is quivering. The scratchy feeling of his stubble on the sensitive skin of her groin is unbearable.

She sheds a fucking tear when he finally allows her to cum. It's like the great flood from Biblical times. Trevor Philips is in the wrong fucking business because if he did this for a living he would be a billionaire. She can feel the vibrations of his laughter between her thighs and it's way too fucking much. She crawls across the seat to get away from him. She don't even feel the pain in her arm no more. Trevor wipes her cum away from that glorious fucking mouth. His face is still rosy from the encounter and he's smirking like a madman. Earline feels like she could pass out right here. Trevor tosses her the torn up pair of jeans.

It's a hell of a lot harder for her to pull them back on. She can't rightly focus on tugging them back over her legs and buttoning them up. The muscles in her thighs keep twitching against her will. Trevor hollers for her coworkers to return. She don't even feel the least bit awkward about it. Something's making her feel strange though. Earline enjoyed that little detour and she doesn't want it tainted by the growing tangled mess of confusion that Trevor's cultivated within her. Life was already complicated before he came around and she don't want anymore of that horse shit getting piled on.

They toss back beers and chuck the empty bottles into the Alamo Sea until the sun is engulfed by the purple mountain tops. Ron tries to explain to Earline how the government is monitoring their every move through the GPS trackers in their cell phones. Trevor can tell that she isn't really listening to him. She nurses her fifth beer as she sits in the white sand. She keeps gazing out at the reflection of the stars off of the choppy green waters of the Alamo. She doesn't look sad. She fucking shouldn't be. He made sure of that.

Trevor eases down onto the beach next to her. Her slender lips curl into a faint smile as he slides closer to her. He can tell she's about to doze off. It's not typical for Earline to just let Ron ramble on like this. Usually she has some smart comment or sexual innuendo ready to shut him up.

"Ron!" Trevor says. "Enough with this shit, can you not fucking tell that nobody is listening?"

Once Ron gets going it's hard to get him to stop. He can't believe they let him have a fucking radio show. Whichever executive made that decision needs to be let go.

"I'm just trying to educate her, T!" Ron protests. "She needs to know these things!"

Earline lays her head on his shoulder. He's not sure what to call the emotion that the gesture stirs within him.

"I will not have another employee turning into a paranoid whack job, Ron!" Trevor warns. "Stop filling her head with this garbage!"

"You're just saying that because you worked for the Feds, T," Ron says. "They've gotten to you- haven't they?"

Good fucking lord he does not want to get into this right now. Earline starts to slide down his arm. She has passed the fuck out. She had a big day today. As rough as it was, she's still sleeping with a smile on her face. Trevor reaches over and strokes her curly blonde hair just like he used to when he tucked Tracey in for bed. Earline's no baby and Tracey isn't anymore either but it still fucking feels like they are sometimes. What the hell? He didn't even know Earline until almost a month ago. How can he even compare the two of them?

This shits starting to get a little weird and that's a lot coming from fucking him. Trevor never gave a shit about labels or following the unspoken rules of society. But this shit is starting to really get fucking confusing. Whatever the fuck is unfolding here, he likes it. He likes it way too damn much. Trevor likes having her stinky ass passed out on his shoulder. She's annoying , rude, disgusting and absolutely fucking brilliant. She gives no fucks but for some reason she seems to give a fuck about him. Earline needs him and he likes that feeling. Of course, Ron and Wade need him too. They'd be fucking dead if he weren't around.

He'd slit anyone's throat if they ever harmed a hair on any of their heads. Trevor never married, he never created demon spawn like Michael did. The family he came from was too broken to allow Trevor to settle into a normal, boring life like that. He slides his arm out from beneath Earline and drapes it around her narrow shoulders. She nestles her head in his lap and a smile creeps across his face. Ron keeps trying to argue with him about the ways of the world. Wade trips over his own goddamn shoelaces as he stumbles along the shore. They may not be blood but they're what he has. They have yet to betray him and for that very reason he will never leave them.


	6. Sara

Being back in Los Santos is stirring up a nauseating mix of emotions within Trevor. He's aggravated as fucking hell because he dragged Earline and Wade along. The whole fucking drive here they were going at it like fucking school children. He had to smack them around and threaten them with vivisection to get them to finally shut the fuck up. He dropped them off on some street corner. Earline desperately needed some new fucking clothes. Jesus, she needed a fucking bath too. That kid was worse than Wade when it came to bathing. He just shoved money in her hands and told the two of them to fuck off. Trevor despises shopping, especially fucking here, everything here is a gimmick. At least the people in Sandy Shores own up to being shitty rather than trying to sugar coat it. He had other reasons to ditch the two of them though.

Michael had been trying to get a hold of him for a while. He'd been too busy babysitting to call him back until now. Fuck, part of him still hates Michael. As much as Trevor wants it to be like the old days he knows they can never go back. He will never trust Michael again. He'll always be doubting his word and wondering if he's lying again. Can he even call him a best friend after all that? Michael made up for shit. That's for fucking certain but it can't undo the nine years Trevor spent mourning him and wishing for him to be by his side.

Seagulls squawk as they flutter overhead. He's leaning over the splintering railing of the pier. The green ocean waves crash into the umbrella dotted beaches below him. The chaotic noise of the amusement park to his back possesses a joy that he's starting to find infectious. He watches the dimple faced kids running ahead of their frustrated parents. That shit makes him smile. He always had a soft spot for kids. He couldn't fucking explain it and he didn't feel the need to. Del Perro Pier wasn't their usual hangout but for some reason Trevor had the itch to come here with Michael. Maybe acting like kids would make things seem like the old days at least for an hour or two.

But here he is, waiting on Michael because he's fucking late again. He's watched the roller coaster make its rounds about a dozen times now and if he keeps staring at the twinkling lights of the Ferris wheel he's going to hypnotize himself. His ringtone chimes and he can feel his phone vibrating. He knows it's not Michael because there's only been one irritating fuck that's been texting him all fucking day. He pulls his phone out of his trousers and curses under his breath when he sees Earline's name blinking on the screen. She's been sending him bitchy text messages ever since he dropped her off with Wade. She needs to learn how to fucking socialize with her peers.

He flicks his thumb across the screen, leaving a trail of grease on the slick surface. He cracks his crooked grin when he sees what she sent him. No bitching this time. It's just her juicy ass hanging out of a pair of torn up cutoff shorts.

The caption says, "Like what you see, boss?"

Shit, she's a confident little fuck isn't she? He really fucking likes that about her. God, he doesn't want to admit that he just had that thought creep into his mind. Even with her left leg ending mid thigh, she can still pull off those shorts. He jabs his thumb into the screen as he types up his reply, it's the first response he's actually given her all day. That's the one fucking nice thing about text messages. He can ignore them all he fucking wants without consequence, well most of the time he can.

"Buy yourself a new pair of tits while you're here and I'll be happy."

He snickers as he sends off that reply. Her tits aren't that awful but she doesn't wear a bra so they look like absolute shit most of the time. His phone buzzes again.

Earline responds with a simple, "Fuck You."

He shoves his phone back in his pocket. She doesn't seem like the type to enjoy shit like shopping. Fuck from the way she dresses he wouldn't be surprised if she told him she got her wardrobe by beating up homeless people. Hopefully the two of them don't end up blowing all his money. Trevor's not sure who'll be worse, Wade or Earline.

"What're you smiling about?"

Michael approaches him with open arms. He's wearing one of those clean cut suits he's always walking around in. They all look the same to Trevor. He doesn't give two fucks what people wear unless they're naked and offering him sexual favors. Michael pulls him in for a hug. It's very forced and Trevor is painfully aware of it. Michael was never touchy, even before they went through all that shit, but it seems like he's more distant now than ever before. His blue eyes light up when he smiles. Seeing that smile just makes his fucking blood boil. Did he smile like that when he ran off with all the dough from Ludendorff and faked his own death?

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Trevor says.

He's got a lot to brag about this visit and he's more than eager for the opportunity. Michael leans back against the railing. He really fucking shouldn't because it makes his gut stick out even more.

"With you, T, I'm not really sure I do," Michael teases.

He used to be more accepting of Trevor's life choices but now he's gotten so soft in his old age he's just a judgmental prick. Michael only assumes the worst from him now. Well, Trevor usually has nasty assumptions about him too so they're on even footing in that regard.

"Hey, I got plenty to smile about," Trevor says. "Life's been pretty fucking good to me since our final little hurrah."

He's not completely talking out of his ass. Trevor may have been bored there for a while but things have picked up lately. It's been confusing to the point that he's not sure it's an actual upturn in his life but he won't tell Michael that.

"So what? Only murdering prostitutes twice a week now instead of everyday?" Michael says.

He can't remember the last time he murdered a prostitute. He might want to knock that out while he's here in the city. Easier for it to slip through the cracks out here.

"Oh, it's much better than that, Mikey," Trevor brags. "Business is booming! Let me fucking tell you, I am raking in the dough my friend."

He is. He doesn't need it but he is. Michael just cracks his neck with that unimpressed look in his eye. Fuck him. Michael doesn't know how to appreciate a finely set up crime ring anymore. He's been brainwashed from all the fucking yoga classes and juice cleanses that he's been subjected to over the years.

"Oh I'm sure," Michael sighs.

Jesus, he sounds about as enthusiastic as a prostitute servicing an obese, pimple faced virgin. If he was going to be such a dick, why'd he even bother to show up?

"What? You fucking jealous?" Trevor growls.

Michael shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. God, fuck that bastard and his full head of hair. It's all probably fucking plugs anyway.

"Oh yeah," Michael says sarcastically. "I've fantasized my whole life about living in a shitty trailer in a redneck town peddling cheap drugs to disgusting people that barely qualify as human. I mean c'mon, T! I figured after all the shit we went through that maybe you'd move on to greener pastures."

Oh that's fucking rich coming from the biggest slug to have ever crawled out of a woman's vagina.

"I have fucking moved on!" Trevor says. "See, I went and got myself a little protégé too."

Michael seems more horrified than anything else. Trevor should've figured as much. Ten years ago, Michael probably would've had the same reaction but that doesn't matter. After all the shit he's done to Trevor he should be supportive!

"What? You don't think I have shit to teach people?" Trevor says. "I've got plenty to fucking share. I have so much fucking wisdom it would be a goddamn waste for me not to pass it on."

"Jesus," Michael sighs.

He pushes himself away from the railing. He tugs on his cuffs and cracks his neck again. That's shit he does when he's agitated.

"Who in their right mind would-did you kidnap them? Jesus, do I need to call Lester?" Michael pries.

Why is it that Michael has to come to his rescue? Maybe for fucking once he could just shut the fuck up and accept that Trevor's got his shit together. He doesn't need Lester and he certainly doesn't fucking need Michael.

"Fuck you!" Trevor says. "She's like the daughter I never had-well-except we screw—look, it's complicated but it's working out really fucking nice for her. She's fucking blossomed since I took her under my wing."

That's the closest he's come to articulating his sentiments about the situation. Shit, why'd it have to be fucking Michael who drew that out of him? Michael seems even more horrified now that those words have been uttered.

"What the fuck, Trevor!?" Michael says.

"Hey! Don't fucking judge me! You had Franklin, I have Earline!" Trevor growls.

Michael's shock only seems to grow. He's trying not to laugh and he covers his mouth. Trevor doesn't find anything remotely funny about this discussion.

"Earline?" Michael snickers. "Jesus Christ, that's the most hillbilly name I have ever fucking heard."

Earline is very much so a hillbilly. Trevor can't deny this fact and at times her redneck tendencies are very amusing to him but he's the only one allowed to acknowledge these things. Michael has no right to judge Earline, especially when he hasn't even met her. Shit, she's disgusting but she's his disgusting little hillbilly.

"Shut the fuck up!" Trevor warns.

Michael holds up his hands and takes a step back. That's something that has stayed the same over the years at least. He's always done this when he's going to back off of a subject that seems to be getting Trevor a little too torqued up. Good, he better fucking back off or Trevor won't be able to contain the urge to throttle him.

"Chill the fuck out," Michael laughs. "I'm sorry, okay? Jesus fucking Christ."

God, this little meet up was a terrible fucking idea. Why is it that Trevor keeps expecting shit to be different? Every time they get together, they just end up arguing about some complete and utter bullshit. It doesn't stop him from getting his hopes up though, every fucking time. As much as he wants shit to be the same, it just fucking isn't anymore. Michael's a different person now and so is he. Maybe they are the fucking same though. Maybe it's just all the shit they've gone through. They can't say goodbye but they can't go back to the way things were. They can still get shit faced and fuck around like a bunch of morons but they're old fucking men now. They're just two pissed off old men who've hurt each other a few too many times.

* * *

The shitty pop music is so loud that Earline can feel her very bones vibrating from the sound. Flashing strobe lights illuminate the curvaceous bodies that are wrapped around the poles on stage. The Vanilla Unicorn is a much classier place than Earline was expecting. She has a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that it belongs to Trevor. These bitches ain't got nothing on her though. They're boring as fuck and she can't believe any man would be willing to pay them to swivel their hips in his face. Wade's face is cast in the glow of the pink neon lights near the bar. She's the only girl in here that ain't working the stage. Her outfit is helping her blend in at least. She could probably pass off for one of them if she wasn't so stinky. She ain't got any glitter in her hair either.

Trevor told them to meet him here. She hasn't heard from him much today. It bothers her and she doesn't like to think about that. Wade's been watching her like a hawk all damn day. It's pretty fucking annoying. Trevor gave him a big fucking lecture when he dropped them off at that strip mall. Earline wasn't to bully Wade and if he let her get out of hand he was going to gut the two of them and make them wear each other's intestines as necklaces. It was enough to make it a boring fucking trip. She'd never really gotten a chance to explore Los Santos when she passed through here.

The plane ride from Las Venturas to here was awful. She blew some guy from Airport Security and he snuck her on the flight in some idiot's dog crate. Once she got here, well, she was just trying to find some hole to hide in so she could start over. Shit was so different now. She never would've guessed she'd end up where she was. She expected to be wandering around for quite some fucking time. It wasn't that long ago that she was running shitty hustles with Kenny on the Strip but it feels so far away now. She's not that person anymore. She'll never be that person again. She's not sure how she feels about that either.

Some half drunk, black dude staggers over to her with a wad of cash in his hand. He sways back and forth as he approaches her.

"How much for a private dance?" He asks.

Earline grins. Well, this day just got a hell of a lot less boring.

"I'm free if you meet me out back," Earline says.

Wade's on her quicker than fat kid who's heard the ice cream truck coming down the street.

"She ain't a dancer, s-sorry," Wade says. "I'm sure there's someone else who's willing to take up your offer."

Ain't he the biggest cock block that ever did live? She's a tad heartbroken as her free screw staggers away. Black guys got big dicks too and she's missing out on that because of Wade's dumb ass. She leans against the wall and folds her arms across her chest. Wade's hovering around the bar. He won't leave her alone for more than two fucking minutes. He takes his work too fucking seriously.

"Why you gotta be that way?" Earline sighs. "I barely would have been gone for five minutes."

He scratches the back of his head and fidgets. Fuck he fidgets a lot. It drives her fucking nuts. There ain't too many folks on this earth that Earline isn't willing to screw but Wade is one of them. The more she gets to know him, the less inclined she is to entertain the idea.

"I don't think Trevor would be too happy about that." Wade says.

Oh fucking please. He ain't got the slightest clue what he's talking about.

"Why would Trevor fucking care?" Earline snaps.

She might have to order a drink from that big titted brawd at the bar to have this conversation.

"Well, ya know, because you and him-" Wade stammers.

If Trevor wouldn't skin her alive for it, she'd pop him in the face.

"Me and him?" Earline says. "That ain't a thing. He's my boss. We just happen to have an arrangement is all and it ain't none of your damn business."

Wade keeps on fidgeting like the little rat he is. God, he's going to say something stupid. She can fucking feel it coming. It's been coming for a while now. Someone was bound to start asking questions. Anytime bodily fluids are exchanged people have to know every last fucking detail.

"If it's not a thing, why do you look at him like that?" Wade asks.

It's like when a toddler starts asking where babies come from or if heaven is real. Shit, why he's got to bring this shit up? Earline don't like to think about this shit. Does she really look at him in a queer way? Fuck, if Wade's fucking noticed, then has Trevor? Why is it she's getting so fucking worked up about this? She knows what's going on. She fucks Trevor to keep a roof over her head. He's her boss. He isn't even remotely interested in her beyond that point. She thinks about the night she fell asleep in his lap on the beach and how nice it felt. She wants to barf all over this purple fucking carpet. Earline does not feel such things. She's not dumb enough to allow that to happen.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Earline lies.

She limps over to the barmaid. She's thankful the music in the club is so loud because she can't really make out what Wade is saying now. It's for the fucking best. She orders a shot of tequila and downs it. This is the first time she's thought about smoking dope since she tried it the first time. It felt damn good to be on that shit and she wouldn't mind feeling that way right now. It'd smother out all those distracting feelings that Wade's questions brought out.

She can't be too cross with him. He don't know what he's talking about. He's got the mind of a fucking child sometimes but she just can't blow this off as much as she wants to. Earline's smarter than this. She's never let anybody get under her skin. Sex is a mighty fine thing. It's one of Earline's favorite creations of the Lord but the shit that goes along with it is too messy for her taste. Making attachments is dangerous. Shit, but she attached herself to Kenny didn't she? It wasn't for long but it was long enough that him getting shot had her in shambles.

The music is too loud for Earline to hear her phone go off but she can feel it jiggling in her pocket. She has to really work her fingers around it to pull it out of the tight little pocket. Her heart races as she runs her thumb across the tiny keys to unlock it. She wants it to be Trevor. Fuck, she really wants it to be him. Her heart sinks when she sees the message is just from her service provider, reminding her to pay her bill. She wants to throw this piece of shit at the wall. It's not the phone's fucking fault. Jesus, she wanted it to be him so badly. Earline has to order herself another shot. She can barely even taste the golden elixir as she tosses it back. If she could talk to her teenage self right now, she'd probably be cursing her out. As long as she doesn't own up to anything it's not real.

Earline looks pretty somber as she's leaning against the bar counter with her ass sticking out. Her dusty cowboy boots tracked dirt onto the club's carpets. Jesus, she looks like a crack whore in that outfit. It's a nice fucking sight though. Trevor has to adjust his pants as he walks into the club because those cutoff shorts are having such a strong effect on him. Every time he enters the Vanilla Unicorn, he has this problem. He's not too picky when it comes to good pussy. He's probably fucked half of the girls that work here.

"Earl," He hollers.

The frown vanishes from her face when she looks up and sees him. Shit's been heavy today, Earl. He won't tell her about it. She won't fucking get it. He will have her suck him off while Sapphire and Nikki give him a lap dance though.

"So you obviously didn't kill each other," Trevor teases.

From the way she's been blowing up his phone all day, he knows she came damn fucking close. He barely even noticed Wade's presence because her ass was so distracting. For once the ferret faced kid doesn't look terrified by his arrival. That means he was doing his job. Thank fucking Christ because Trevor didn't want to deal with any of that horseshit today.

"Trevor, can we go get food now?" Wade begs. "We been here since three in the afternoon and we didn't eat nothing."

Fucking hell. Does Wade even know how to wipe his own ass or does Trevor have to do that for him too?

"I gave you all that fucking money and you didn't buy your ass a burger or something?" Trevor sighs.

Wade just can't seem to wrap his head around this concept. Fuck, he's a good kid but sometimes Trevor has to wonder if he has any fucking brains left in that thick skull of his.

"But you said if we spent the money on anything other than clothes that you'd make us eat our own shit for dinner," Wade explains.

Trevor does recall saying that but Wade should be smart enough to know that dealing with this is the last fucking thing Trevor wants to do. His little visit with Michael wasn't all bad. They had a decent fucking time but he's exhausted and still feels fucking weird. He just wants to crack open a beer, get his dick sucked and pass out on the couch in his office.

"Jesus, Wade, just fucking go. Get out of my face and don't come back until you have nothing to bitch about!" Trevor growls.

"But Trevor-"

He seizes Wade by the neck and pushes him towards the club's entrance. He has no patience left. Wade finally gathers enough brain cells to determine that he should just fucking leave. Earline should be laughing her ass off right about now. Fuck, if she's in a mood too he's literally going to fucking shoot every asshole in this club.

"What's eating you?" Earline asks.

Shit, he doesn't even know how to explain half of it to her. He hasn't told her much about Michael and she probably doesn't remember any of it because she was black out drunk. He leans against the bar counter with her. He watches the drunk bums shower crinkled bills on one of his girls on stage. He figured having money like that would solve a lot of problems, but it hasn't done a damn thing for him.

"You don't fucking care," Trevor says.

She may like fucking him but she's just in this for his booze and his money. She couldn't possibly give two fucks about an old man like him. Why does that notion fill him with such a fiery storm of rage?

"Maybe I do care, Beer Can," Earline presses.

She's just full of shit. She certainly sounds fucking convincing though doesn't she?

"What? You trying to soften me up so you can get some speed from me?" Trevor says. "Nice fucking try."

Earline runs her fingertips along his forearm. It's like someone took jumper cables to his flesh. He can feel the hairs on his arms standing on end. When the flashing lights illuminate her face, he can tell she's not fucking around. There's no twinkle in her eye. Fuck, he needs to smash her face in. He hates this effect she's having on him.

"I saw Michael today," Trevor confesses.

Earline nods to the barmaid. He watches the glass of tequila slide across the counter. Earline holds it out for him. Why the fuck not? He downs the shot and slams the empty glass on the countertop. She wouldn't have done that if she'd forgotten everything.

"It wasn't fucking awful," Trevor says.

Fuck, he's trying to convince himself more than he is her.

"We had a blast." Trevor explains. "But I mean he has to take off early because he's got that stupid family and here I fucking am, by my fucking self, wishing we could just go toss back a few cold ones and pick up bitches."

Earline sighs, her bushy mass of hair falling into her face as she does it.

"I know how you feel," Earline says.

How could she possibly know? She hasn't lived even remotely long enough to have gone through half of the shit he has. She's just pissing him off even more.

"You don't know shit, kid," Trevor says. "Stop talking out of your ass before I shove my fist up there to shut you up."

That same twisted grin creeps across her freckled face.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," Earline teases.

That nasty little bitch.

"I'll threaten you however the fuck I want," Trevor warns.

She's walking a fine line tonight. She could end up dead and stuffed in a dumpster if she's not careful. He doesn't want to hang around here anymore. He wants to take a few girls to the back, smoke up and fuck their brains out. He didn't come home just to fucking discuss the pile of bullshit that's making him feel like an old hopeless fuck. He storms across the stained carpet towards his office. Fuck, he can hear her limping after him. Jesus, can she not get a fucking clue?

"Where you headed?" Earline asks.

Away from her fucking dumb ass. That's where he's fucking going.

"Fuck off!" Trevor roars.

He pushes one of the dancers out of his way and she nearly falls on her naked ass. Fuck her, fuck all of them. He just wants to be left alone with his crystal before he ends up dismembering someone. Earline tries to grab him by the arm. Oh fuck no. He snatches her by the wrist. Trevor glares at those stupid fucking green eyes. He wants her to see he has murderous intent. This is the final fucking warning before he snaps her fucking neck.

"I—" Earline stammers. "I ain't paid my rent yet."

She chose the right fucking words. No more prying, no more ugly emotions that he doesn't want to address. Just rampant angry fucking in his office. That's just what he fucking needs right now. He shoves her through the swinging door to the dressing rooms. She's smart enough to shut up now. She just follows him down the narrow hall to his office.

He slams the door behind her when she limps into the room. The only reason it's so fucking clean is he hasn't been here in a while. The girls seem to pick it up for him when he's gone. The desk is still littered with random fucking papers and glossy photos of potential new dancers. He flicks on lights. They don't make too much of a fucking difference. He's too desperate to silence the rampaging fury in his heart to care about anything else. Trevor grabs Earline and shoves her up against the wall. She doesn't scream. She doesn't even flinch.

Her heart is racing. He's scaring the shit out of her but she loves it. This is a new kind of angry for him. His grip on her arms is painfully tight. She won't be going nowhere as long as he's got a hold of her. She's waiting for him to tear off her clothes but he's just staring at her with those intense fucking eyes. Earline's aching for him to get on with it. She wants him to fuck her until she can't remember Kenny's face anymore. He draws his tongue across his bottom lip. She can't rightly stand those brown eyes boring into her like that. She's not sure she wants to know what's going on inside that head of his.

The dull rhythm of the bass is all she can hear of the club in here. It's keeping time with the hammering of her heart. Is he going to kill her? She's not so sure she'd mind that. He slides his hand up the length of her arm. The feeling of his calloused hands across her skin is giving her chills. Trevor cups her face in his massive fucking hand.

"What're you doing?" Earline whispers.

He pulls her face to his. Trevor forces her mouth open and presses those juicy fucking lips into hers. It barely registers that he's never kissed her before. She can taste cheap beer and corndogs on his tongue. Trevor's stubble scrapes along the tender skin around her mouth. She lets go while they're kissing. She can't fight this anymore. She wraps her arms around his thick neck. At least right now she's not confused. At least, in this moment, she knows exactly what she fucking wants and has no fear.

They tumble around his office. Hungry hands groping at mounds of flesh. His hard sweaty body pressed up against hers as he shoves his tongue in her mouth. He draws his arm across the surface of his desk, pushing everything to the floor. Papers flutter though the air as he lifts her up. He lays her down across the cold metal surface and she gasps. They've never gone at it like this. He grinds his hips into her slowly as she clings on to him. Trevor's lips are glued to hers. Sweat pours down the harsh lines of his face.

She doesn't finish but she doesn't care. She feels so full of joy and she hates herself for it. When he peels himself off of her it's like losing her leg all over again. The Old Earline would be having a hissy fit right now. What crazy fucking shit has she gotten herself into? In the wake of their indiscretion, she's even more aware of how fucked up this has become. She admires him. Earline fucking looks up to him but at the same time she wants him to grab her by the ass and pound the living shit out of her. She runs her fingers through her damp hair and pushes it out of her face.

Trevor grabs his clothes off of the floor. She watches the muscles in his back stretch as he pulls the filthy t-shirt over his torso. She just wants to get out of here. She can't fucking look at him. She should fucking leave tonight. She should steal some of his cash and buy a plane ticket to get the fuck out of here. She hops off of the desk and starts putting her clothes back on.

"Want a beer?" Trevor asks.

He pops open the fridge. She can't even hear the sound of it running. Six months ago she could've ran off from this without a problem. She could've fucked him over and moved on without a second thought. Shit's just not the same anymore. He tosses her the bottle. It nearly slips out from her sweaty fucking palms. It's not the thought of screwing him over that's got her all tore up. It's the notion that she won't see him ever again. She twists off the beer cap and flicks it across the room. She watches his Adam's apple bob as he guzzles down the beer. He tosses the empty bottle and it smashes against the wall.

"Don't be pissed because you didn't cum," Trevor teases.

She's not pissed. That was some of the best sex she's ever had in her whole fucking life. She's just furious because she's finally starting to admit to herself the one tiny thing in this whole mess that is finally starting to make sense to her. Earline may never be able to wrap her head around it all. Their dynamic is fucking strange and it's still evolving with every passing day. She never would've guessed she'd end up here, not in a million fucking years. Shit's just gotten a hell of a lot more fucking messy for her. She thought she could control herself. Earline was certain that she was capable of avoiding a situation like this.

Trevor's softened her though. He's despicable, terrifying and trashy but his generosity has torn down all the walls she's had up for her entire life. He's a different kind of scum bag. Trevor's the kind of man that'll give you a million fucking reasons to hate him but some force of nature compels you to like him. Shit, why is she still lying to herself? She's falling for him. She takes a swig of beer and wipes the excess away from her lips. Earline's certainly fucking changed. Because she'd never be dumb enough to let something like this happen.

"What?" Trevor presses.

He cracks that crooked grin and she can't help but smile too.

"Ain't nothing you need to worry about, Beer Can," Earline lies.

Trevor isn't an idiot. He's seen that look in a girl's eye before. He knows what it means. He won't force it out of her though. If she doesn't want to talk about it, he won't make her. In all fucking honesty, he rather it go unaddressed mostly because he's not really sure what to make of the situation. The shit that just went down was really fucking heavy. That's shit he used to think about doing to Patricia when he took her on walks around Sandy Shores. When he had Earline pinned up against that wall, he just felt an urge and fucking indulged it. That's all there fucking was to it. When he wants to do something he does it. There's no thinking involved.

He does care about her. He just doesn't fucking know how to describe it. It's not the same way he's felt about other women. He's never needed shit to be so black and white. He's always been comfortable operating in the grey area and he's old enough now to know that's all there really is to life. Shit's always complicated. It's always a jumbled up fucking mess that you don't even fucking know what's going on. You just feel it and go with it and hope for the best. By the look on her face, he's guessing she hasn't figured that out yet. Earline fucking will. She's smarter than the average idiot walking down the street.

Trevor wants to take care of her. It's the same paternal instinct he feels for Tracey. Even after all this fucking time, that part of him remains unchanged. A lot of shit in his life just isn't the fucking same anymore but that will never go away. He'd still kill for Tracey. She may have become a giant airhead slut but she's still his baby girl. It's not exactly the same fucking deal for Earline but he can see them going a long ways together. It's not exactly fucking normal but, in this day and age, what is?

"Let's smoke up," Trevor suggests. "Then we can have another go."

He'll take it out of her paycheck but she doesn't need to know about that. He's glad he brought her with now. Making her smile is having a positive effect on his mood.

"That sounds mighty fine to me," Earline says.

He keeps her up all night. The office fills with the blue smog from their smoking. He tells her stories from his glory days that have never come to an end. She laughs and cheers with every triumphant tale he shares. She makes him feel like a god. They fuck on the busted couch when he doesn't feel like talking anymore. Even then, she presses him for more. His life feels full again just like it did in North Yankton all those years ago. Something that makes him feel this wonderful doesn't need to make any fucking sense. He knows what he's feeling and that's good enough for him. If she follows his lead, she won't hurt over it for much longer.


	7. I Cannot Believe It's True

The throbbing beat of the club's music dissolves into muffled, incoherent noise as he shoves her into the bathroom. Trevor pushes Earline's face up against the blush pink wallpaper. Her boots squeak as the soles slide on the slick, black, tile floor. He presses his arm into her back and she gasps in pain. She can feel the rough texture of his hand sliding down the back of her shorts. Out of the corner of her eye, Earline can see their reflection in the mirror. The collar of his bowling shirt is sticking up and his slacks are starting to fit too snugly across his crotch. Trevor looks absolutely fucking ridiculous. This was his idea of getting dressed up; putting on some ugly brown slacks and a fucking maroon bowling shirt that's missing a button. If he wasn't so fucking weird though, she wouldn't like him so much. Her cry echoes off of the bathroom walls when he slides his fingers inside her.

Earline can hear someone giggling in one of the bathroom stalls. She hopes they enjoy the fucking show. She's too revved up to care. Trevor was practically shoving the shots down her throat at the bar. He'd gotten bored waiting for his buddies to show up and it led to this. With his fingers up her cooter, she has a hard time remembering that she actually was excited to meet them. He's too impatient to handle her with tenderness. Not that such a thing is a norm for him. Trevor seizes Earline by the hair and shoves her onto the slick countertop.

They've been going at it like rabbits since the first time he kissed her. She's not so sure their little arrangement is about paying rent anymore. His face quickly turns a deep shade of red as he pounds into her. Fuck, if she didn't smell like shit before, she certainly fucking will after this. Their bodies are plastered with sweat and her shorts are soaked through. Like she gives two fucks if anyone notices. Trevor goes rigid as he releases his load. She's beginning to adore the sight of this. Earline ain't bothering to fight it anymore. She isn't fixing to tell him how she feels any time soon either. He's got her back, but she's pretty damn certain he can't reciprocate her feelings for him. She's hoping to grow out of it soon.

She slips and slides on the tile. Every time he fucks her she has a hard time walking afterwards. She yanks her damp shorts back over her bottom. Jesus, she reeks. She don't rightly care. She's too busy watching him trying to zip up the fly of those tight ass trousers. Fuck, he certainly knows how to fill out a pair of pants, don't he? He flashes that crooked grin. Shit. She likes to pretend she brought that smile to his face. It makes her feel special. He makes her feel special all the time though without even trying. Goddamn, she's a fucking idiot. A man like that isn't going to waste his time on a crippled little girl such as herself.

They push their way through the door, back into the abyss of the club. The pulsing rhythm of the overly sexual music assaults her ears. Its shit music but the drunk bitches in sequin tops don't seem to care. They keep grinding their hips up against strange men on the dance floor. Wade is nowhere to be fucking seen. The last she saw of him, he had some dumb bitch hanging off his gangly arm. She must've been seriously drunk off her ass to drape herself all over him. Trevor shoves people out of his way without a single fucking care. As they draw near the bar, he starts shouting and waving. Shit, they're here? Earline tries to get a good look at them but there's too damn many people for her to be able to see.

"Hey there, kiddo!" Trevor hollers.

He pushes his way to the bar. Earline nearly would've been left behind if it weren't for the fact that she's hanging on to his arm for dear life. She about creams her panties again when she sees the fine ass black man sitting at the bar. His face lights up when he sees Trevor. That must be Franklin. Shit, Trevor failed to mention that he was so damn fine. He's a little too clean but that ain't nothing getting in her way. He's built like a fucking battering ram. There's a thousand fucking things she wants to do to those juicy fucking lips of his too.

"Hot damn!" Earline says. "You best give me your number, sugar, because I want me a slice of that."

Franklin seems completely and utterly disgusted with Earline's flirtation. That's a damn shame. She's fine with taking no for answer but she would've loved to give that bull a ride.

"Imma have to pass on that one," Franklin says.

Even in the darkness Earline can see that Trevor's surprised by Franklin's response.

"You sure?" Trevor says. "I mean I took her to the vet, she's got all her shots."

Franklin just laughs and shakes his head.

"Suit yourself," Trevor says.

If she really felt the urge she could pick up some random dude here tonight. Trevor would give no fucks, shit, he might even join in. He went to prison; he's done that type of thing before. She hops up onto the stool next to Franklin. He may not come home withe her tonight but she's still going to get a good look at him for her own personal pleasure.

"You must be Earline," Franklin says.

He holds out his hand for her. Shit, he's a gentleman too? She shakes his hand. She still can't rightly figure out how a fellow like him became such good friends with Trevor. They don't seem to travel in the same circles.

"You can call me whatever you want, sugar," Earline says.

He forces an awkward smile but she can tell he ain't having none of it. It ain't going to stop her. She can feel Trevor's hand pressing into the small of her back. He don't mean to do it but it makes her smile. She's got to get a hold of that shit or she's going to make a damn fool of herself.

"So where'd y'all meet?" Earline asks.

She ain't never heard the story and, as always, she's thirsty to know.

"Through Michael," Franklin explains.

Now that's someone she's really curious about. Sometimes she thinks he and Trevor were screwing from the way he talks about him. He goes on about him like he's the devil himself and then two seconds later Michael is the greatest friend he's ever had. Seems all a bit fishy to her.

"Yeah," Trevor says. "See, Earl, Franklin and Michael have an arrangement very similar to ours. However, I can neither confirm nor deny whether they are also sleeping together but it is a very distinct possibility."

Franklin's liable to hurl from the look on his face.

"I just don't fucking know with your sometimes, dawg," Franklin says.

Earline can feel Trevor's damp breath on her cheek. She knows he's just hovering over her to stay in on the conversation but his presence is making it hard for her to focus.

"Jesus, can't you fucking take a joke?" Trevor says. "Fuck, looks like Michael's sense of humor has rubbed off on you too."

Trevor's spittle lands on her cheek as he speaks. Franklin don't seem to take his harsh tone too seriously. In fact, despite how grossed out he seems by the turn this conversation has taken, he seems pretty comfortable around Trevor.

"Man, half the time I can't tell when you being serious or when you're fucking with me," Franklin says.

Well shit, Earline's got that problem too. If they got that much in common that's enough of a reason to have a good rut. Maybe if he gets drunk enough tonight it'll happen. Some folks might call that rape and Earline would have to agree with them.

"Earl, you want a beer? I want a goddamn beer." Trevor says.

He nods his head to the bartender in the floral print shirt. He doesn't really give two fucks about her answer. She knows that by now. The bartender puts some fancy crap on the table. Fuck, it all tastes the same to her. Trevor guzzles down the beer and slops it all over his shirt.

"So how'd Trevor pick you up?" Franklin asks. "What, he stick a gun to your head from the back seat of a car too?"

There's clearly a joke there that she ain't getting because Franklin's snickering to himself over that.

"Weren't no guns involved," Earline says. "That sounds like it would've made things more interesting."

"And it would've made you a lot more fucking dead," Trevor teases.

The sound of his booming laughter, right in her ear, gives her goosebumps. A silver grin spreads across Franklin's face. He's got cute little dimples in those cheeks of his. Shit, he could be a model in one of those toothpaste commercials his teeth are so damn nice. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind her. Trevor tears himself away from her. She's hot and sweaty but having him torn from her so quickly makes it feel like a chill has run through her. Earline cranes her neck over her shoulder to get a look at what stole Trevor's attention so quickly. She sees a stocky looking man. He's a tad shorter than Trevor and they look to be about the same age. He's got a square jaw that juts out a little bit too far. He looks slick as fuck. She doesn't need Trevor to tell her his name. Now, she understands why he speaks of him so often. He has an aura to him that just radiates confidence. Damn, she'd fuck him too if given the chance.

"Earl, this is Michael," Trevor says. "My best friend and the biggest bastard to have ever lived."

It's all true. Trevor loves Michael to death but he'll never forget the way he stabbed all his comrades in the back. He's about to deck him too because he's being a disrespectful fuck. He's staring right at Earl's fake fucking leg. He knows she doesn't give a fuck about that shit but it's really starting to get under his fucking skin lately. Trevor's beat the shit out of a couple people they've passed on the street because he caught their eyes lingering a little too long.

"Nice to meet you," Earline says. "I heard a lot about you, sir, and from the looks of that monster swinging between your thighs it's all true."

Jesus, Earline just lays on the charm. She's blind to so much shit. He doesn't care who she fucks in her spare time but the idea of her boning Michael just doesn't sit right with him.

"Funny, my wife says the exact fucking opposite," Michael says.

Earline giggles a little too enthusiastically for Trevor's taste. She's a flirt, he knows that and he gives no fucks about it most of the time. Just the very concept of Michael laying his greasy fucking fingers on her makes him want to smash things. It'll never happen in a million fucking years. Earline's not his type. Michael's far too picky. He likes bitches with big tits and all four limbs.

"I gotta say, T, I'm kind of surprised you're running with someone who has limited mobility," Michael teases. "After all the shit you've given Lester—"

Fuck, Lester that lazy fucking prick.

"Hey!" Trevor growls. "Lester is a whiney sack of shit that's never had to put in an honest day's work in his entire life. Earline here is handi-fucking-capable. She can fucking handle herself, so shut your fucking mouth."

"Alright, alright," Michael says. "Calm the fuck down."

He pats him on the back. That condescending fuck nut. He's only giving Trevor shit because he and Lester are fuck buddies too. Jesus, Michael has terrible taste sometimes. Yeah, Lester's had some good fucking plans. He did help them pull the Big One but he doesn't do jack and shit when it comes to the real fucking work. Earline doesn't bitch about her leg; she just gets the job done. That's some respectable fucking shit right there.

"I am very capable with my hands," Earline says.

He should've just stuffed her in a giant fucking condom before they even came outside. Jesus, give her a little booze and a quicky in the bathroom and she's still hungry for dick afterwards.

"I'm sure you are," Michael says. "I just rather jump off a cliff than find out."

Earline just shrugs. Good, fucking nip that shit in the bud because there is no fucking way Trevor would ever let that go down. He slides over next to Earline again. Michael keeps his distance as always. Even back in the day he'd never sit right next to Trevor. He's probably afraid he'll break a nail or some stupid shit. They'll all probably end up stumbling out of this place with bitches on their arms. He's more than sure Earline would be down for the company.

"It's nice for us all to be back together again," Franklin says. "We need to do this shit more often."

They really fucking do. They all pulled the greatest fucking heist in history. It'll bond them together for the rest of their damn lives. Earline doesn't get it, she might one day, but that'll be quite some time from now.

"Yeah, shits been crazier since I actually fucking retired," Michael says. "But it's been really great. Been spending a lot of time with the family."

Trevor will never be able to sit idle. He will end up with a billion dollars sitting in his bank account and he'll keep on going. Even having a family around wouldn't fucking change that.

"It's been nice," Franklin says. "But I'm thinking of getting back in the game.

Damn fucking straight. He always knew Franklin was a good kid.

"Really?" Trevor says. "That's music to my fucking ears. I'm tired of listening to this sad fuck go on about his fucking family and all the picnics and fruity camping trips."

Franklin's too young for the itch to just disappear overnight. He seemed ready to let go of the life after the last score but, there never is moving on from this lifestyle. Michael can pretend all he wants but he still gets the itch now and then too. Shit, that's why they're all such good fucking friends. They're all so fucking different from each other but they're all addicted to the same fucking game.

"You should come run with us," Earline says. "I wouldn't mind watching your chocolate ass while we're smuggling guns down to Mexico."

That comment ignites a spark within Franklin. Trevor can fucking see it as clear as day. The boy leans in closer. He's receptive to this concept. Trevor would be more than happy to have him. Franklin could be his in to Los Santos. Wouldn't that be a glorious fucking day? Trevor Philips Enterprises moving into Los Santos.

"Shit, that wouldn't be such a bad idea," Franklin says. "Just don't leave me alone with this thirsty bitch."

Earline giggles and tries to casually lean back into Trevor's chest. He's too old to fall for that shit. She thinks she's got game but she doesn't have shit. He lets her do it still just because he fucking likes it. He has no problem admitting that to himself.

"Careful, Frank," Michael says. "You start working with T again you get to start dealing with all his enemies too. Not to mention the horde of racist rednecks crawling around Sandy Shores."

Why's he always got to do that shit?

"Franklin can fucking handle himself," Trevor says. "Besides I need him to teach Earl how to fucking drive. You know how terrible women are with that shit."

Michael flags down the bartender and waves his empty glass in front of them. It seems like he's barely following the conversation now. Michael's already scouting out the hot young things jiggling their asses on the dance floor. Fucking typical. Trevor's addicted to crystal and Michael's addicted to pussy. Boring fucking pussy.

"I know how to drive!" Earline whines.

Trevor snickers and ruffles her hair.

"No," Trevor says. "You think you know how to drive. Now, Franklin knows how to fucking drive. He's the best fucking getaway driver I've ever had the pleasure of working with."

Earline's beer bottle slips out of her hands and the green glass shatters on the floor. There he is. Time has stopped passing. The world has stopped turning. It feels like her very fucking heart has stopped beating. She saw that face only once before but she could never forget it. Those hollow cheeks and that pointed, salt and pepper goatee. The dark circles under his bespectacled eyes. The neatly combed hair, parted to the side. The web of wrinkles spread across his swarthy skin. The man with no name. She sees his face illuminated by the headlights of her old car. She sees him pulling the trigger and Kenny's brains splattering all over the windshield. She can smell the smoke from the tires as they burn out. She can hear the sound of Kenny's limp body as it slams into the pavement after she pushed him out of the car.

She is not gripped with the same terror she felt that night. The initial shock transforms into a searing anger. She wants to see him bleed. She wants to tear him limb from limb and listen to him scream. The consequences don't even cross her mind. She cannot believe that it's truly him. He's sitting at a table on the other side of the club with a martini in his hand. He's flirting with a brunette and they're smiling without a care in the fucking world. How can she allow him to smile after everything that he's done?

Earline rises to her feet and Trevor tugs on her arm. Instinct drives her across the club. She shoves people out of her way. She can hear Trevor's gruff voice calling after her but she's too focused to pay him no mind.

"Hey!" Earline yells.

The music is too loud for that son of a bitch to hear her. A bitch curses at her as she shoves her out of the way. He's so fucking close now. If she was packing heat she could pop him right fucking here. He turns his head. All the joy washes away from his expression. Yes, you piece of fucking shit.

"Remember me?" Earline hisses.

He fucking does. She's not running from him this time. No fucking way. She's owes it to Kenny. The man with no name up heaves the table on top of her. She curses as she slams into the club floor. The crowd moves out of her way. She watches him weave through the mass of people. Fuck! Not like this! Earline squirms as she tries to push the table off of her. She can barely hear Trevor's shouts over the chaos that's just erupted in the club. She can't let him slip away. She fucking can't! She pushes on the table. Jesus, she didn't expect this shit to be so heavy. But it's designed to keep drunk idiots from doing this very fucking thing.

She feels the relief of its weight being pulled off of her. Earline looks up to see Michael shoving the table off of her. He grabs her from under the arms and pulls her up.

"C'mon!" Michael says. "We gotta catch up with T and F!"

She barely met these assholes and they're already gunning for her? Shit. She slips a bit on the sticky floor and limps after Michael. Jesus. He's here. He's fucking here. She still can't believe it. And this motherfucker doesn't even know who the fuck he's chasing after or why he should even care. They burst through the front doors of the club. All she can see is the red taillights of Trevor's truck as it rumbles down the street. Michael sprints over to a slick ass luxury car. He doesn't have to say a word to her. She climbs in the passenger seat. She can barely buckle the seatbelt her hands are shaking so much.

If this bastard gets away she doesn't know what she'll do. The city lights fly by in a blur as Michael barrels down the street after Trevor.

"You mind explaining to me why that guy flipped a table on you!?" Michael demands.

Shit, she thought Trevor sounded intimidating when he was mad but Michael is downright terrifying. That voice could turn a girl's blood to ice.

"He killed my old running buddy!" Earline says.

Just saying that out loud again makes her want to break things. He ran from her though just like the yellow fucking cunt he is.

"T's on his ass, we'll get him," Michael assures. "You all right?"

She will be as soon as that bastard's brains are splattered all over the pavement. The car swerves and the tires screech as they round a sharp corner.

"I mean just considering your condition I figured—" Michael says.

Fuck, really? Of all the fucking times.

"I can handle myself," Earline says. "Don't worry about me. Just keep up with Trevor!"

Her heart's racing. The taillights of the Bodhi keep vanishing around corners. If Michael loses him she will fucking shit. Horns blare as Michael weaves them through the city traffic. The car clips a newspaper stand on the sidewalk and papers explode into the air. The skyscrapers on either side of them block out the night sky. On the straight away, they're gaining on Trevor. She can even make out the sports car that he's chasing after. She's guessing the rider on the green motorcycle is Franklin, he's right on that fucker's ass. They better not cap him because she wants to get her hands on him first.

Trevor's Bodhi careens through the intersection ahead of them. The light flashes to red before they get there. As they barrel through the red light, a sedan slams into the side of Michael's car. All the windows along the driver's side shatter and spray glass across the plush car seats. The car spins across the intersection and narrowly misses the light pole. Earline's face slams into the car door. The world around her is spinning. Blood trickles down from the side of Michael's mouth. Shit. They're right fucked up.

All she can think about is to keep moving forward. She fumbles with the door. She can't let the bastard get away. She can't let this slip through her fingers. She pushes the door open and falls right on her fucking face. Michael's cursing echoes throughout the street. There's just no time for this. She braces herself on his car as she gets back to her feet. Smoke billows up from under the hood of Michael's car. The guy that hit them is in a lot worse shape. The front end of their car is a mangled heap of metal and smoke. That bastard's probably dead. She doesn't care. She starts limping down the street. Her legs give out and she slams into the hot concrete again.

* * *

Trevor watches Franklin creep up next to the silver sports car. He loves this Bodhi but it's not designed to keep up with a car like that. He doesn't need to know who this asshole is. He watched Earline's face in the club. He knows who it is. Why he's here doesn't matter. Why should he fucking care at all? Shit, this is Earline's problem not his. But here he fucking is. He's ready to break that fucker's neck too. He flipped that table on Earline and Trevor is not letting that shit go. No one fucks with his crew. Absolutely fucking no one. He glances up at the rear view mirror. He can't see Michael's car anymore.

It doesn't fucking matter. He'll get this fucker. He'll bring him down for Earline. He'll get her the revenge that he was never able to obtain. Trevor's phone starts to chime. Really? He snatches his phone off the passenger seat and brings it to his ear.

"What!?" Trevor growls.

Trevor can hear Michael gasping for breath. Sirens are wailing in the background and people are screaming.

"We got hit, T" Michael says. "We're pretty fucked up. Earl—"

Trevor slams on the brakes. The truck swerves all over the street. All reason has left him now. He can't think; he can only act. He tosses the phone in the back seat. His hands work around the wheel as he brings the truck back around. The tires screech and smoke. He floors it and the truck fishtails. The bastard he's chasing down no longer matters to him. Earline may kill him for this but, he'll kill her if she's gone and gotten herself killed. The traffic gets thicker as he draws near their accident. He can see the blue and red flashing lights from the ambulance. If she's in the back of that fucking ambulance he's going to cut off her other leg so she can never go anywhere ever again. He hasn't had this feeling in a long fucking time and its pissing him off. He jerks the wheel and brings the truck over the side walk. He barrels into the intersection and the truck screeches to a halt.

Trevor leaps out of the truck. He watches the paramedics pull a limp corpse out of the smoldering remains of a strange car. God, if Earline looks like that he's going to go murder that entire fucker's family.

"Trevor!"

Michael's voice catches his attention. Earline's leaned up against Michael's mangled car. Blood is pouring out of her nose and her face is scraped up pretty bad. Michael waves him down. Why does he feel so fucking relieved to see them like this? He'll fucking gut them for getting him so worked up. Earline tries to stagger over to him but Michael pulls her back. She looks absolutely fucking furious. Well, he fucking is too so she better be ready for an ass chewing. He's going to beat the living shit out of her. He's going to knock out all of her teeth and fuck the shit out of the bloody hole that was her mouth.

"Did you get him!?" Earline pleads. "You didn't let him get away did you!?"

Trevor slaps her across the face. She doesn't get to ask any fucking questions now.

"I thought you were fucking dead!" Trevor roars. "Do not ever fucking make me worry like that ever again! What the fuck happened, you dumb cunt!?"

She spits at his boots. Fucking bitch! Trevor grabs her and starts shaking her like a rag doll.

"Hey! Knock that shit off!" Michael yells.

He pushes Trevor away and positions himself between the two of them. He just wants to throttle her. If she hadn't tried to chase after this guy, this wouldn't have happened. This is her fucking fault. Earline climbs around Michael and starts groping at Trevor's shirt. She's a fucking mess. She's swaying back and forth like a blade of grass in the wind.

"Damn it, Beer Can!" Earline screams. "You let him get away! You let him fucking get away!"

Trevor seizes her again. She feels so fucking fragile. He shoves her up against the crinkled mess of Michael's car. She screams and curses, beating her fists on his solid chest.

"I don't fucking care!" Trevor roars. "I do not fucking care! God fucking damn it, Earl! I thought you were fucking dead!"

Her green eyes seem to be ablaze with hatred. She thrashes to try and get away from him. Michael pleads with him to back off. Fuck, Michael. Fuck, everyone that's fucking here.

"I swear to fucking Christ, Earline Templeton, I will break every fucking bone in your body if you ever make me worry like that again," Trevor vows.

Those were ten minutes he spent in Hell. He could've lost two of the most important people in his whole fucking life. Jesus Christ. He was scared. He was so fucking scared. He whirls around and turns on Michael. The fat snake's hair is a mess but compared to Earline he looks absolutely fucking fantastic.

"And you!" Trevor seethes, he shakes his finger in Michael's face. "I mourned you once already! Do not fucking die on me again or I will crash through the fucking Gates of Hell to kill you again! Do you fucking hear me?!"

Michael holds up his hands, he's laughing but it's not because he finds this funny.

"Just calm down, T," Michael says. "There's no reason to get so worked up. We're fine."

Trevor has plenty fucking reasons to get worked up. Michael never had to learn what it was like to lose the one person that meant the most to you in this shitty fucking world. He does not want to endure that again. Shit, Earline's in that fucking category now too. She snuck right fucking in there didn't she? Like a fucking rat. He can't believe this horseshit. It's the same fucking reason he went and chased after that asshole without a second thought. How in the fuck did she do this to him? How can she make him want to choke her to death and cuddle her all at the same time?

Michael digs in his pocket and pulls out his phone. The light of the screen illuminates his face. It reminds Trevor of the task at hand. Shit, he'd almost forgotten about it in the heat of the moment. Michael brings the phone to his ear. It has to be Franklin on the other end. He can't tell if the news is good or not from the expression on Michael's face. That fucker always could keep his cool in a situation like this. Michael has little to say but when that slit mouth of his breaks into a smile, Trevor can't help but crack a grin too.

"That's fucking perfect, Frank!" Michael says. "We'll meet you at Lester's tomorrow. Good job, kid."

Trevor watches Michael slide his phone back into his pocket.

"I got good fucking news," Michael says. "He didn't catch him but, he got a photo of the plates. It's not much but I think Lester might be able to dig some shit up on him."

Trevor glances back at Earline. She doesn't seem happy with the outcome but her anger has definitely ebbed away. Shit, Franklin went out of his way to help them and made sure they didn't walk away from this disaster empty handed. Trevor hates Lester but if anyone's going to be able to track that sack of shit down it'll be him. He'll do some computer voodoo for them. Fuck, he shouldn't be willing to do this for her but he fucking is.

"You hear that, Earl?" Trevor says. "You're going to owe my friends here a big fucking favor after all this. It's going to take a lot of dick sucking to make up for this one."

Michael cringes.

"I think I'll pass on the whole repayment thing," Michael says.

Earline will owe them for this. They're doing her a massive fucking favor. They're not doing it for her though. They're doing it for Trevor. He's glad they still have his fucking back. Shit, even Michael participated with a minimal amount of bitching involved. That's a fucking miracle. He'll give her shit for this for the rest of her fucking life. It doesn't matter that he doesn't actually expect her to repay him. As long as she thinks she owes him, she'll stick around. Trevor's not sure that's really necessary anymore. He sees the way she looks at him when she thinks he's not looking. He's got her wrapped round his dick pretty fucking nicely now.

"Now I need to get you two to the fucking hospital," Trevor says.

Earline rolls her eyes.

"We're fine, Trevor, really." Michael says.

No, he's not taking any fucking chances with these two.

"Well, I'm not really interested in dealing with Amanda when she finds out I didn't fucking take you to a doctor," Trevor says. "So, c'mon, let's fucking go."

Earline starts to stagger over to him. She's walking like a drunkard. Trevor slides his arm around her waist and pulls her closer to him.

"I've got you," Trevor says.

She leans into him as they walk. He looks down at her and gets a fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach when he sees the smile on her face.

"Thanks, Beer Can," Earline says.

Earline can't believe he's really doing all this for her. Trevor's calling in a lot of favors just for her stupid fucking revenge quest. She feels like shit and that bastard may have gotten away this time but they'll get him. Fuck, she's hurting in places she didn't know she had but it don't matter. She can't believe that bastard showed up here. She'd finally started to believe that her old life was a million miles behind her and she'd never have to deal with it ever again. She'd given up hope of ever getting payback for Kenny. Trevor's actually going to help her do it too.

It was a shock to see the man with no name tonight. What's really made her heart skip a beat is Trevor. Maybe he does give a shit about her. Why else would he be doing this for her? He's done so much for her already and now all this. It's all she can think about as the doctor pokes and prods her. She feels so warm and cuddly while he yells at the staff and it makes her want to puke. Michael and Trevor turn it the fuck up on the drive to Michael's house. She really can see the love Trevor has for him. She ain't jealous none. Trevor's got a massive fucking heart. She's never known what it was like to have a bond like that. Shit, Kenny meant a lot to her but there was a lot she didn't fucking know about him. He was quiet and queer.

Trevor thinks about how little he actually knows about his hillbilly protégé on the drive back to the Vanilla Unicorn. A huge part of him didn't really give a fuck. All that mattered was the person that stood before him right fucking now. Now that hazy background of her's has reared its fucking head on his home turf. That bastard seemed shocked to see her. There's no way he was out here to finish the job. He didn't even know she was going to be there. Trevor watches her chest rise and fall as she sleeps in the passenger seat. He can't fucking believe it but he's starting to understand why Michael did what he did back in North Yankton. Earline's just a fucking kid. She's not his fucking kid but it certainly fucking feels like it sometimes. He's willing to chase down a complete fucking stranger for her. He can't believe he's doing this shit.

He carries her into the club like a fucking baby. She's a tough little shit but, holding her in his arms like this makes it seem like she's so fucking delicate. He bangs her fake leg on the door into his office. She's out fucking cold. The shit that doctor gave her must've been top fucking notch. It fucking better be, he forked out a lot of money for her. Earline sure knows how to fucking rack up a debt. At this rate, she'll be working for him until she's a worn out drug addict just like he is. He lays her down on the ratty old couch. He tugs off her boots and tosses them across the room. Fuck, he's exhausted. It was a long fucking night and he didn't even have crystal to help him power through it. Trevor starts undoing the straps of her prosthetic. He's done this shit enough times now that he doesn't have to think about it anymore.

He runs his fingers along the silky smooth surface of her stump. She mumbles and draws her limb away from his touch. The idea of sleeping in the officer chair doesn't appeal to him as much as it did earlier. He could've lost her tonight. He could've lost Michael too. He doesn't want to sleep alone. It's pansy fucking shit but even a grown ass man like him needs this shit sometimes. He remembers falling asleep with Tracey after reading her a story. He feels like that right now. He squeezes onto the couch and wraps his arms around her. Trevor pulls her against his hard body. He holds onto her as tightly as he can. He never wants to experience the fear he felt today again. The horror of losing Michael ruined him. Trevor doesn't know if he can handle losing someone again. He doesn't know if he can handle losing her.


	8. Edge of Seventeen

The ramshackle house with the olive green siding reminds Earline of the first foster home she stayed in. Nothing in the yard seems even remotely close to living and there's a massive pile of garbage lying on the curb. Brightly colored signs are plastered over every square inch of the property. They warn trespassers of cameras and hazards that Earline highly fucking doubts are actually there. She could see Ron living here. Fuck, she misses that crazy bastard just a little bit. They ain't going to be headed home anytime soon though. Not from the way Trevor's been talking all day.

She can see Franklin's green chopper is already parked across the street. She still can't wrap her head around all this. These people don't even know her but Trevor's enough reason for them to help her out. That's a bond she ain't never seen in her whole life. Trevor puts the Bodhi into park. If Franklin hadn't called to wake them up, they would've slept clear through this meet up. Trevor seems to give no fucks. He smoked up before they left. Shit, Earline should've begged him for some too because she's really feeling it today. Her neck is aching from whiplash and the stitches on her forehead are itching like crazy.

Trevor climbs out of the truck. She's sluggish as she follows him. She don't know much about this Lester fellow. Trevor doesn't seem to think too fucking highly of him. Earline ain't got much to say about computers. She knows they can do some crazy fucking things but she ain't never had the money around to really fuck with them much. Supposedly, this Lester is a fucking savant when it comes to them. She hops her way up the steep steps to the door. Trevor gives her a tap on the ass when she reaches the top. Earline grabs him by the crotch. If he wants to be nasty she ain't got no problem being nasty right back. He slaps her hand away.

"Hey! Not fucking right now!" Trevor says.

Earline twirls a finger through her blonde curls.

"You started it," Earline teases.

He ain't really mad at her. She can tell. He's got that twinkle in his eye. She wouldn't mind some fooling around after last night. She's right appreciative of the way he's sticking his neck out for her.

"I don't fucking care!" Trevor says. "Knock it off, we're here for business remember?"

She fucking remembers. How could she forget? Trevor presses on the buzzer by the door. He looks up at the camera that's focused in on the two of them. He flips it the bird. Franklin greets them at the door. Shit, it's nice to see his face again. Earline can't help but give his fine ass the old up down.

"Yo man, your ass is hella late," Franklin says.

Trevor pushes his way inside. Earline traces her fingers across Franklin's chest as she walks by. She likes the way he squirms away in disgust. It ain't the exact reaction she'd like to get out of him but she'll take it.

"Where's Mikey?" Trevor asks.

"He gotta go take care of his car," Franklin explains.

The inside of this house is a million times worse than Earline was expecting. It's wall to wall electronics. It's so dark inside that it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust. The air is damp and smells like mold. It's barely recognizable as a fucking home. Trevor and Franklin don't seem to have any fucking trouble navigating through the labyrinth. From the looks of things, it's been a few years since a woman came in here that wasn't getting paid for services rendered.

"Oh sure," Trevor says. "There's always an excuse with him, isn't there?"

Trevor's always got to get butt hurt over Michael standing him up. It's kind of cute in a weird fucked up way.

"C'mon, man, he don't need to be here anyway." Franklin says.

She follows them to a cramped room. It's the best lit fucking room in the whole damn place and even then it's still shitty. In the orange light she can see a twin bed squeezed into the back corner with a stained quilt thrown over the top. Shit, the fucker sitting at the desk in front of all those damn monitors looks like a fucking toad. He's plump and pasty skinned with a green plaid shirt clinging to his sweaty body. He's got even less hair than Trevor. The glasses on his face make his eyes look about three sizes bigger than they actually are. Shit, he ain't exactly pretty but she'd give him a pity fuck if given the chance. This fucker certainly looks like a goddamn Lester to her. The name suits him perfectly.

His gaze flutters to her prosthetic for the briefest of moments before he glances back up at Trevor. He's supposed to be a cripple too. It seems like that's about the only damn thing she's got in common with him.

"You must be Earline," Lester says.

Fuck, his voice is so fucking nasally; it reminds her of the nerds she used to beat up back in high school.

"You're a lot dirtier looking than Franklin described," Lester says.

Franklin thinks she's dirty? Well she is. She ain't going to deny that. She prefers the stench of sweat and piss to soap and perfume.

"You won't be bitching about my hygiene when I'm sucking your dick," Earline says.

Trevor cuffs her up the side of the head.

"Damn it, Earl! Do not fucking make me muzzle you!" Trevor growls.

He probably means that. She ain't into that kinky shit so she don't want to find out if he's serious or not. Like it matters. Lester seems horrified by her comment. Just another dick she'll have to pass on fucking. It probably would've been pretty disappointing anyway. He looks like he hasn't had much experience in that department.

"Charming," Lester sighs. "Franklin already explained the situation to me. There's just a minor problem."

Fuck. Earline figured he wasn't going to be able to find anything. Lester swivels around in the chair and rests his tiny hands over his bulging belly.

"What?" Trevor says. "Is it too much fucking effort for your bitch ass fingers to punch a few buttons?"

Lester doesn't even blink at the one. Shit, this motherfucker is cold.

"I just can't find any incentive to do this for you," Lester says.

What? Fucking really? Michael and Franklin seemed pretty fucking willing to get into this for Trevor. She thought this guy used to run with them too? Earline supposes that working with someone don't necessarily make them friends. It just seemed like Trevor kept quality people in his company. He does hate this guy though. Now she's starting to see why.

"Incentive?" Trevor seethes. "We're fucking friends you lard filled ball sack! What other fucking incentive do you need?"

It's probably not the best for Trevor to get so riled up with all this expensive shit lying around. Lester don't care none though.

"That's what I've been trying to tell him, man," Franklin explains. "C'mon, you know it'll take you like five seconds, dawg."

Trevor couldn't be any more fucking disgusted with Lester. Jesus, this pathetic fucking insect has the fucking nerve to give him a hard time. What could he possibly fucking want? Lester's got way more than he deserved from the Union Depository job. He's probably just been sitting on his ass since then, masturbating to weird anime porn and eating cheese puffs. What the fuck could he possibly be doing with his sad little life that is more important than helping out an old fucking friend?

"I have no reason to help out this fucking—crack whore," Lester says. "I don't want to get caught up in this mess. If you idiots want to get involved with this go ahead but it's going to take a lot more than friendship to get me to help out."

God, he could just fucking stab the shit out of his plump little body and watch the fat just ooze out of those gaping wounds like melted fucking marshmallow.

"Hey!" Earline snaps. "Whore's do it for money, I just do it for kicks."

Jesus fucking Christ, he just doesn't know why she surprises him at all anymore. Trevor grabs Lester by the collar of his shirt. Even when he gets right in that little fuck's face he doesn't even blink.

"How about I fucking rip your barely beating heart out of your slimy fucking chest!? You useless sack of shit!" Trevor roars. "Will that be enough fucking incentive for you?"

Franklin pulls Trevor away from Lester. That slug is lucky that Franklin's here or he'd be fucking dead by now. How fucking typical of Lester. That little shit would sell his own mother to the whore house if he could make a profit out of it.

"Chill, man," Franklin says. "Shit don't need to get violent. We can work some shit out, right?"

They better fucking work some shit out or Trevor's going to have a hard time finding reasons to let Lester take another fucking breath with those withered fucking lungs of his.

"How long has it been since you had good pussy?" Earline asks.

What the fuck is she doing?

"I can tell it's been a while," Earline says. "Shit, it don't have to be me. Trevor's got a whole club full of girls. What if we got you shacked up?"

Jesus, he could fucking kiss her. He could get any of those dumb cunts to come up here and suck Lester off. They've shaken their ass for way more pathetic men, Lester would be a walk in the fucking park for them. This is Earline's hustling days coming in handy. She knows how to strike a fucking deal. God damn, she's making him proud right now.

"I ain't trying to embarrass ya," Earline goes on. "But I know your type. You put all your time in your work and that don't leave much for your personal life. It's suffering. I mean if you had a lady around would you really be blowing all your green on this shit."

She gestures around the room at his collection of electronics.

"You got a pulse, we all do," Earline says. "People got needs that gotta be met. Now, I know it ain't a standard deal, but Trevor's a good friend of yours. So, I'm thinking you get a night with a pretty girl and in exchange you dig up some dirt for us."

She flashes that yellow grin. It's nasty but it's fucking charming, at least it is to him. Lester's face is still stone fucking cold though. Shit, is he going to have to beat him into submission? He fucking will. It will be the shock of Trevor's life if Lester turns this offer down. He's a nasty little pervert. He always fucking has been. Trevor knows the power that tits and ass have over this grimy fucking ogre.

"Fine," Lester relents. "I decide when and where—and she has to be on call until I decide I'm tired of her."

Trevor fucking cheers. Shit, pussy prevails just as it always fucking does. This is probably the most fucking humanity he has ever seen Lester display in the course of their relationship. At least he doesn't have to throw anymore fucking money at this greedy little shit.

"So, you really down for this shit?" Franklin presses.

Lester seems disgusted with himself for agreeing to this. What's the big fucking deal? Pussy is a commodity to be bought and sold just like any other. There's no fucking shame involved with it.

"Yeah," Lester sighs. "Just give me a few days. And you dumb fucks need to lie low!"

Shit, here comes the fucking lecture. Trevor knew this shit was going down as soon as they came to Lester for help. Time to get bossed around by a lazy sack of shit who can't even wipe his own ass.

"We don't know who we're dealing with yet," Lester says. "If he's serious shit, he's already looking for you. Don't stay in the same place for more than few nights and please, for the love of god, don't do anything stupid to draw attention to yourselves."

Jesus Christ, he sounds just like his fucking mother.

"Yeah, yeah yeah," Trevor says. "Just worry about your fucking job. We'll be fine."

No one ever puts any faith in Trevor. He spent nine years on the fucking down low. He knows how to fucking slip under the god damn radar.

"Y'all can crash at my place for a few days," Franklin says. "I got enough beds for both of you."

Oh, Franklin, if only he fucking knew. It's nice to see one of his friends is willing to open up his home without any fucking strings attached. Trevor always knew Lester was a little shit but it still drives him up the fucking wall.

"Don't worry," Trevor says. "Earl and I bunk together."

Franklin wrinkles up his nose. When he's older he'll appreciate a good screw. They don't always come from those plastic model types that he seems to gravitate to. It's the weird ones, the ones that have been around the block a few times and had to fucking work to get a man's attention that really fucking know how to show you a good time. Earline screws like a forty year old widow. She knows her fucking shit. They're able to accomplish some crazy fucking shit when she takes her prosthetic off too. Legs are just a fucking burden that get in the way. She fucking showed him the advantages of that shit many a time.

"Man whatever," Franklin says. "Just remind me to bleach my sheets after y'all leave."

* * *

Earline's got her face pressed up against the cool glass, staring out at the massive pool. This view is downright gorgeous. She can see all of fucking Los Santos from up here. Franklin's got some fancy fucking digs. She's been all over the damn place but she ain't never spent the night in a place like this. The plush white carpet feels like fucking chinchilla fur under her toes. This place is damn fucking slick. The beds so goddamn big that you could probably fit four people on there and it would still be comfortable. This shit is the fucking guest bedroom too. It's kept up real nice, she feels a bit guilty over the fact that she and Trevor are probably going to trash it. It's just their way.

She was just making a shot in the dark when it came to Lester. He seemed the pervert type; apparently she was right with that one. It's always the dweeby ones that end up being the nastiest. She can hear the sound of the toilet flushing in the bathroom. Trevor swaggers out of the bathroom. It's getting hard to look at him sometimes. He's just done so much for her and she ain't used to that feeling. Earline was positive she had everything figured out until Trevor came along. Then he made her feel right stupid but, he's made her feel like she's actually worth something more than anything else. She never would've expected that from a guy like him. She watches him blow his nose and wipe it on the clean wallpaper. Well, they'll probably do much worse to the place before they take off. She gets goosebumps when he stands next to her. He's really starting to get a hold on her now. He's probably broken a thousand hearts in his day without even realizing it.

"You did good with Lester," Trevor says.

Hot piss, that makes her smile. He don't say nice things often but when he does he fucking makes her feel like her chest is liable to split open from all the butterflies he's causing.

"Really?" Earline says.

She knows he wouldn't say it unless he meant it. She's just not used to hearing that shit and so she feels compelled to ask him.

"Oh yeah," Trevor explains. "He's a giant fucking pervert. You had no fucking idea but there's a reason we call him Lester the Molester. That nasty little fucker makes me look like a fucking saint."

Well, shit she figured as much when he agreed to her little proposal. She feels bad now for whichever dancer ends up having to give his tiny dick a good old tug. Trevor runs his hand along her shoulder. Oh, shit. She knows what that means. Her heart starts to race. After the shit she put him through last night he certainly fucking deserves it. She ain't had a chance to properly thank him. He's got that hungry fucking look in his eye again. This is the other benefit for doing smart shit. It's better than the frilly words of praise. A lot fucking better.

"You fixing to do some nasty shit on that fancy bed?" Earline coos.

Those juicy lips of his curl into that crooked fucking grin. Shit, she's done right there. He can take her right fucking now.

"I just might, you nasty little bitch," Trevor says.

He strokes the tender skin of her neck and runs his fingers along the curve of her jaw line. If he ain't careful he's going to make her cum right fucking here. The texture of his calloused fingertips is just too fucking much for her sometimes. That shit's finer than silk, in her eyes. He runs his thumb across her bottom lip. She can't help but take it in her mouth. She can taste the dirt on his skin. He's so fucking intoxicating. Earline starts to undo his pants. His pecker's already getting firm. This is going to be good, she can tell.

He grabs her by the wrists and pins her against the glass. What's he fucking up to? His grip on her ain't that tight. If she really fucking felt the desire to, she could slip away from him but she don't want to. She wants to stare right into those intense brown eyes and soak in every second she has with him. He draws those plump lips along her neck. Earline gasps. Fuck, he knows how to make a girl wet. Its monsoon season every fucking day with him around. She's squirming but it ain't cause she's trying to get away from him. Feeling his lips work their way up to her mouth has her whimpering. He's drained her of all her willpower by the time he kisses her. It's sloppy and he's coated her lips with his slobber but she don't care. She wants this. She wants him.

Trevor can't wait either. He starts yanking off her shorts. Their mouths are glued to each other as they fumble with each other's clothes. He shoves her onto the fluffy black bedspread. It's like falling into a fucking cloud. She might as fucking well be because he has her feeling high as a fucking kite. Fuck, it's crazy and it might ruin everything but she can't go on like this anymore. She can't keep this pent up inside. She doesn't want to go the rest of her life wondering what would've happened if she'd said something. Earline doesn't want to live with anymore regrets.

"Beer Can," Earline says. "I—"

He slides those big fucking hands down along her thigh and starts to undo the straps of her prosthetic.

"I know, Earl," Trevor says.

She should've figured as fucking much. She don't' care. She just wants to know what's going on in that twisted fucking head of his. She wants to know if this is as much as she's ever going to get. He slides the plastic contraption off of her stump. It's such a fucking relief to have the damn thing off. He knows it too. That's why he took it off.

"You ain't got nothing to say about it?" Earline presses. "How long have you known? You just been letting me sit here like a dang fool all this time?"

Earline wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer to her. She can feel his chest hair brushing against her flesh. She don't care if she's going to like what he has to say. She'll take whatever answer she can get. Just as long as she can still have him like this. Trevor slides his thick fingers into her cunt. The tip of his nose brushing against hers. She bucks and squirms from his proficient touch. Goddamnit. She wants him to answer her but she wants him to finish her even more desperately.

"Damn it, Beer Can!" Earline gasps.

He covers her mouth with his free hand. Fuck him. She wants to fuck his brains out but she could fucking kill him right now. She don't bother talking to him after that. She just lets it unfold. They swim in the sea of black satin sheets. She'd let Trevor take her every damn day for the rest of her fucking life. So fucking what if it's a little fucking weird? Yeah, he's kind of like the Pappy she never had and fuck yeah its got things all muddled up in her head. She knows she cares about him and that's all that fucking matters. Earline's just so eager to please him, to make him feel happy. She doesn't care if Franklin can hear the ruckus they're making.

Trevor relishes the desperate pleas that stream out of Earline's delicate mouth. He loves making her beg. It reminds him just how fucking thirsty she is for him. He hasn't forgotten about what she said. He knew this was going to come up eventually, he just didn't expect it today. He's quite a bit fucking older than her. That didn't seem to make a damn fucking difference to her. She was after him from the moment she laid eyes on him. She clutches onto his biceps with her petite fucking hands as she draws closer to the climax. She digs those filthy, busted nails into his sweaty skin. He takes her hand in his as she goes over the edge.

He rolls off of her. That got him lathered up pretty goddamn good. He wipes his dick off on the sheets. Christ, it feels like his heart is beating so fucking hard that it's going to burst right out of his fucking chest. Earline's curled up like a fucking child, gasping to catch her breath. Shit, she looks just like a fucking baby to him. She's so fucking young, he's pretty sure she's never had it this bad for anyone else yet. He remembers the first time someone made him feel like that. He remembers how much it hurt when he realized they'd never feel the same way. It sucked balls but he got over it and it didn't destroy their friendship.

He doesn't like to think about this shit though. Fuck, he does care about her. It's just not the fucking same as it's been with anyone else. It's not like she's anything special. She fucking isn't. If Patricia showed up out of the blue and offered to take him back he'd go in a heartbeat. He'd still want Earline around though. God, it's fucking weird but it's not the strangest fucking thing he's ever had going on. He can't lie to her. Fuck it, she's grown enough to be able to handle this if it doesn't pan out. If she fucking can't, big deal, he'll just dump her in the Alamo Sea. He reaches over and tugs on her slender arm. She rolls over to face him. She's too damn exhausted to care about the mass of frizzy hair that's fallen in her face.

"The feeling's mutual, kid," Trevor says.

She pushes her wild hair away from her face. Her unkempt brows furrow with confusion.

"What?" Earline says.

Her voice still sounds so breathy. She still hasn't recovered yet.

"Are you fucking deaf?" Trevor snaps. "I said the feeling is fucking mutual. Can you wrap your tiny fucking brain around that or do I have to fucking spell it out for you?"

Earline tugs the sheets up over her face. She's shaking but isn't making a fucking sound. She better be fucking giggling because he is not in the mood to get any deeper into this fluffy bullshit than he already has. He yanks off the sheets. Her face is bright red and she's fucking beaming. Good, he hates fucking dealing with crying bitches. He knew she was better than that horseshit.

"Does that mean you wanna go again?" Earline giggles.

Jesus fucking Christ, this kid has a one track fucking mind.

"Fuck, kid, give me twenty minutes, I'm not fucking built like I used to be," Trevor says.

He never felt old until she was around. Little fucking piece of shit. He's going to have to smoke up to keep up with her fucking libido.

"Go fucking shower," Trevor growls. "You smell like shit and I'm not fucking you again until it's like a fresh fucking flower garden down there!"

He honestly gives no fucks how she smells; he just likes giving her shit. The faster they can get back to normal the fucking better.

"Aw, c'mon, Beer Can!" Earline whines.

He shoves her off the bed and cackles with delight when she slams into the plush carpet.

"Go, you nasty little shit!" Trevor says.

"Fine," Earline relents.

She holds up her arm and he helps her up. He remembers it wasn't that long ago that she'd get pissed when he'd help her out. He's glad she got over that bullshit pretty quickly.

She sings shitty country songs in the shower. Her voice is like nails on a fucking chalkboard. He rummages through his pants for his stash. She starts calling for him in the shower. Jesus, if he wasn't in such a good fucking mood he'd smash her face right into the fucking tile. He leans in the bathroom doorway. The white steam has invaded every crevice of the room.

"What?" Trevor says.

He slips the glass pipe between his lips. He flicks his thumb over the lighter a few times before it finally fucking ignites.

"You think that Lester guy is gonna be able to track that son of a bitch down?" Earline asks.

He takes a hit from the pipe and lets the blue smoke ooze out from between his lips. It isn't exactly a turn on to watch her shower. Through the frosted glass he can see her hunched form sitting on the floor. Her silhouette contorts into weird shapes as she scrubs herself down.

"Oh he can find out every girl that guy's ever fucked if he really wanted to," Trevor says. "Lester's a lazy piece of shit but he's good at what he does."

He will never fucking say that to the bastard because his ego is already inflated enough.

"You don't have anything to fucking worry about, Earl," Trevor says.

She doesn't, not with him around. He probably doesn't need to tell her that shit anymore. Not after what just went down in the bedroom. He never flat out said it but she's smart enough to read between the lines.

"I know, I know," Earline says. "This just means a lot to me is all."

Well, he can imagine so. She never fucking told him that whole story. She's got enough dirt on him that she could probably write a fucking novel about him.

"Why's that?" Trevor pries. "Were you fucking that guy too? What's his name—fucking Karlos?"

She doesn't mention him often enough for Trevor to fucking remember.

"Kenny," Earline says.

She reaches up to turn off the water. She doesn't even need to ask him. Trevor pulls open the shower door and holds out his arm for her. He pulls her up off the slippery floor. She looks completely fucking different with her hair all sopping wet. Her head's a lot fucking smaller than it seems the rest of the fucking time. He shoves the pipe back in his mouth so he can grab her the fluffy towel hanging on the rack.

"Okay- so were you fucking him?" Trevor presses.

She doesn't seem very comfortable with the course the conversation has taken. He doesn't fucking care. It's obvious that this shit bugs her but if she wants help burying the past he needs to know.

"Nah," Earline says. "I mean I tried plenty of times but he always just freaked out on me."

Earline braces herself on him as she towels off. She's got this shit down. It's kind of fucking fun to watch. It helps that her pear shaped figure looks damn fine when it's dripping wet too.

"I dunno," Earline says. "He must've been gay or something."

More likely he just found her revolting. That seems to be the typical reaction people have to Earline. They're all fucking idiots. They don't know the good time they're missing out on.

"You got a problem with gay people?" Trevor teases.

He blows a cloud of smoke into her face. She snatches the pipe out of his hand and takes a hit. She didn't even fucking ask, the greedy little punk.

"No," Earline says. "I'm part gay so I ain't got no problem with them."

Jesus, she's too much sometimes. He snatches the pipe back from her. Shit, Trevor could say the same about himself though. He's not one to turn down a nice piece of ass. As long as there's a hole for him to shove his dick in, he's game. He helps her back to the bed.

"You should've told me that earlier!" Trevor says. "I would've invited Nikki to the party! She swings both ways."

He would in a fucking heartbeat too. God, to have two fat asses in his fucking face. That would be fucking glorious.

"Nah," Earline says. "I done her already. She's boring."

When the fuck did this happen and why wasn't he fucking there? She flops down on the mattress. They've only been here for a few hours and this room already looks like a disaster area. Earline runs her fingers through her wet hair. That's the closest she's ever going to get to brushing that shit. He's starting to feel the crystal now. The buzz is already getting him aroused again. The conversation is helping move that right along too.

"Wait, so how many of my girls have you fucked?" Trevor says. "Do I need to take this shit out of your paycheck?"

He keeps saying shit like that but Earline's never actually gotten paid for a damn thing. She's more like an indentured servant. She sucks his dick, he teaches her how to be a badass. It works out okay for them. She really has to fucking think about his question. God, she's worse than he is with meth.

"I did that one bitch who wears the school girl outfit," Earline says. "And that Gothy one. She says she don't put out but that ain't true. She's just a fan of tuna. Oh! I fucked that Mexican looking bouncer too. The one with the pedo-stache."

Good fucking Christ, she's already fucked half of the Vanilla Unicorn staff and he didn't even know it.

"Look, I don't care what you do with that gaping hole between your legs," Trevor says. "But if it involves one of my employees, I'd prefer you fucking ask first."

He can't have this office romance shit going down. Well, he can do it but not his underlings. They're not intelligent enough to handle that. He doesn't want to deal with all the squabbles that could spawn from that. She holds out her hand. He knows she wants another hit but he's not sure he wants to share so easily. She already got away with one freebie today. Just because he told her he's got a soft spot for her doesn't mean he's going to treat her any fucking differently. She needs to pay for her own shit if she wants to smoke.

"Suck my dick and I'll give you a hit," Trevor says.

She's filled his head with dirty pictures and it's got him ready to go again. Earline rolls her eyes and scoots off the bed. She can act like this is a fucking chore all she wants but he knows that she loves it. He's glad he didn't bother getting dressed. Easy fucking access. She takes him in her mouth. It feels so damn divine that he nearly falls over. That Kenny was a fucking moron for turning Earline down. She's a real fucking gem. He takes another hit as he watches her head bob up and down. It's all out in the open now. It doesn't seem to have changed any damn thing. He's fucking glad too.

The best part is after this whole revenge quest is over and done with, she'll owe him a fucking life debt. Earline will be stuck with him forever. Shit, even if he wasn't helping her out, it seems like Earline would be in this for the long haul. It's his job to keep her on the straight and narrow now. Fuck, he might even go kidnap Patricia again so she can have a proper mother figure around. That would do her some good. Things might be a little awkward at first but they could make it work.


	9. It Don't Matter To Me

_Author's Note:_

_I'm deeply sorry that it's been almost a month since I updated this. To be quite frank, I was allowing myself to get overwhelmed with life. It also didn't help that I really struggled with this chapter. I've never written so many drafts for a fanficiton in my life. I knew what needed to happen this chapter and I was very picky about how I wanted it to pan out. After a lot of contemplation and rewrites I settled on this. University has started up again as well. It seems like this term will be easy so I'm hoping to keep this updated regularly until it's finished._

* * *

Earline can barely hear the sound of Trevor screaming at Wade over the phone. Leaving him to babysit the Vanilla Unicorn wasn't the best idea. It didn't help that Trevor let it slip that someone might be out for their heads. Fuck, it's been three days and she already misses the stupid fuck. Ain't nothing been feeling right the past few days. Her stomach has been in knots since they got Lester to agree to help them out. As far as she knows, they ain't heard shit from him since then. What if he don't find nothing? Seeing the man with no name again makes it damn hard for her to let this shit go. She thought she could. With Trevor she started to believe she could do anything. He's willing to kill for her. Not even Kenny came close to that kind of loyalty. She's sprawled out on Franklin's couch. Her fake leg is propped up on the coffee table. Crunched up beer cans and empty take out boxes are strewn everywhere.

The luxury of his home has worn off on her. She wants to go back to that shitty trailer in Sandy Shores and wake up to Ron's burnt coffee. They can't go back, not yet. Blood will be spilt first. Then Trevor will take her and Wade back home and she'll spend the rest of her days running guns and cooking meth. She don't mind the smile that notion brings to her face. She doesn't even notice Trevor's phone call has ended she's so wrapped up in her own thoughts. He comes thundering down the hall. He looks so fucking out of place in this house.

What's left of his hair is all mussed up. He ain't showered today. He's been wearing that same fucking shirt for three days. Shit, so has she though. They both stink to high fucking hell too. Franklin's going to need a hazmat team to get his place back to normal after they move on. Trevor lingers at the top of the stairs as he looks down at her. How is it that he can stop her thoughts with just one look? He's still red in the face from the phone call but his expression has softened now that he's laid eyes on her.

"Jesus, kid," Trevor sighs. "Not you too."

She'd say sorry but Earline ain't the type to apologize for nothing. She's still getting used to this talking about feelings crap. Trevor's the type of guy that wears his heart on his sleeve and she ain't so used to that. She ain't never known another soul like him. She's trying to take on that trait. She used to think that was something that made a person weak. That can't be the case. Not after knowing him. He's the strongest person she's ever known. He makes his way to the red couch. She feels a chill run down her spine when he passes by.

"Me too?" Earline says. "I'm doing all right, what's up with Wade though?"

She's mildly disgusted with herself for actually giving a shit about that little peckerwood. But she fucking does. Trevor flops down next to her on the couch. He starts pawing over the beer cans, looking for anything that still has a drop of alcohol in it.

"He's just scared," Trevor says. "I might not have explained the situation to him in the best of ways."

That could mean a million things coming from Trevor. She feels a pang of guilt over the news. Fuck, she shouldn't. Wade's a pussy but it is her fault. They're dealing with a shit ton of unknowns right now and it's all because of her. Shit, she's a little scared too. It ain't for the same reasons. She's scared Lester won't have any answers for her and she'll have to spend the rest of her days mulling over the fact that she never avenged Kenny. She gets to have a beautiful, full, long life and all Kenny will ever have is barely two shitty decades and then the void.

"You're making that face again. The one where you look constipated," Trevor says.

She can't hide away in silence with him. He won't allow that. He knows her too damn well yet he doesn't really know shit at the same time.

"I'm scared too," Earline admits.

That's the most difficult shit in the fucking world. Somehow those brown eyes of his make it easier. He looks queer with that view of Los Santos sprawled out behind him. It's like everything that's tranquil and right with the world is sitting on that side of the couch cushion. He's leaned back on the couch, legs splayed open, without a care in the fucking world. He don't need to fuss over her. He don't need to worry about her. He'd be just fine if he dumped her right here and now. But he ain't fixing to do that. That's the very reason why she's stuck around. It's why she's started telling him about the ugly things she doesn't like to admit to herself.

"What? You think that fucker's after you?" Trevor presses. "If so-who the fuck cares? We can set him on fire or toss him over a pier. We've got options, Earl."

As much as she hates talking about feelings and all that horse shit, she ain't regretting this. He's already making her feel better.

"That ain't it," Earline says.

Maybe one day she won't have such a hard time with this bullshit. She spent a long time being the one to reassure herself. Shit, it left her feeling like she knew everything. Trevor certainly knocked that shit out of her right quick. He's already getting aggravated with the way she's beating around the bush.

"Then what is fucking it?" Trevor growls. "We don't have all fucking day. I'm not in the mood for this shit."

His brow is starting to twitch. She don't want to piss him off.

"I know, I been whining about this a whole lot," Earline explains. "And you told me I ain't got to worry none. It just keeps nagging at me. What if Lester don't find nothing? And what if he finds something that I ain't gonna like? I need to do this. I ain't gonna be able to live with myself if I can't bring that fucker down."

She could vomit right fucking here. She's such a yellow little shit sometimes. She can barely look at Trevor. She finds it easier to spill her guts like this if she don't have to look at him. It's stupid and it makes her feel like a kid but it's what works for her at the moment. She feels the rough surface of his fingers sliding across her bare thigh. Her gaze travels up the curves of his arm until she reaches that face. Somehow that mean mug of his manages to look comforting. It's only getting prettier to her with every passing day.

"I don't like repeating myself," Trevor says.

He sounds firm but she don't detect even a lick of hate in that tone. He tilts up her little chin so she has to look him in the eye as he speaks. God fucking damn it. This bastard makes her feel like a little girl. It's something she hates and cherishes all at the same time.

"Whatever happens; happens," Trevor says. "I don't care if we have to fly across the fucking Pacific to put that fucker into the ground. We'll get it done, Earl, and I won't let anything fucking happen to you ever. I promised you that I had your back and I don't fucking break my promises. "

Son of a bitch. She ain't got words for that. Earline just knows that vow seems to have caught her right in the gut.

"I owe you so much," Earline says. "Beer Can, I ain't never gonna be able to pay this back."

They ain't the exact words she needs to say. She wants to say them though. It's just another damn thing she'll know she'd regret if something went down. She's got too many fucking regrets and with him around her life ain't going to be ruled by fear no more. It's insane. A violent psychopath is the most stable entity she's ever had.

"Earl, I don't give a fuck," Trevor says. "I love you, alright? I thought we established this shit already."

They did establish this and they've been rutting like crazy since then. How long will it be before Franklin comes home with that damn dog? Does she have time to lay her claim on this man for the thousandth time?

"I love you too, you nasty old fuck," Earline says.

They have a good screw on Franklin's couch. At least for now, he's managed to smother out her worries. She ain't never believed a word that's come out of anybody's mouth except his. He's bat shit crazy and she probably is too for trusting him so damn much. Earline's damn sure she ain't wrong this time. A man does not acquire a patchwork family like this without having a massive fucking heart. They have fucking gotten tangled up in this mighty fast though. That's dangerous regardless of the type of person you are. Trevor don't seem the type to be cautious with this sort of thing though. He goes big guns all the time. Shit, she wouldn't have him any other way though.

Earline expected it to be another boring day of them being trapped in the mansion. That all comes crashing down when Franklin comes home with Michael in tow. She ain't stupid. She can't read Michael for shit but Franklin's got this queer look in his eye that tells it all. Lester found something and whatever it is, its bad news. She's standing out by the pool chewing her dip as she watches them come in. The heat of the afternoon sun stings her pink flesh. She brings the empty beer can closer to her mouth and spits into it. She can't hear them, she don't need to. Franklin's gaze keeps flickering over to her. Trevor must've picked up on things too because he looks pretty pissed off with the two of them.

She don't want to go back inside after seeing that. When Franklin comes back usually he raises hell over the mess they made. He ain't got shit to say about the big wet stain on his nice upholstery. He ain't even looked at the damn couch. She watches Michael usher Trevor out of the living room. She don't like it none. Earline feels a growing sense of dread as she watches Franklin slide open the glass door and step out onto the white concrete. At least she's got dip. Franklin nods to her. It ain't awkward. He's good at playing it cool. So what? Did they decide he was the best one to wrangle her after the news gets broke? Not even Trevor is going to be able to keep her in check if this is panning out the way she thinks it has.

She spits in the can again as she looks out over the pool. The reflection of the fluffy white clouds floats across the pristine turquoise waters. Smog hangs on the Los Santos skyline. It's just another reminder of how much she misses Sandy Shores. Franklin pulls up one of the canvas patio chairs.

"Where's Trevor off to?" Earline asks.

Franklin eases himself down into the chair.

"Lester wanted to see him and Michael," Franklin says.

And they left him to babysit her. The dip in her mouth seems to taste a tad extra bitter today. She ain't fucking around when it comes to this. Lester has news and that's all she can think about now. She has to know.

"And why ain't I coming along?" Earline presses.

Franklin shakes his head. Oh yeah, this is going to be a big fucking doozy. It don't matter none to her. She's tired of waiting, tired of not knowing. She wants that bastard's name. She wants to know all there is to know about the man that killed Kenny. Franklin rubs his temples with his fingers. It's eating at him whatever it is.

"You gonna just sit there and act like a pussy or are you gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?" Earline growls.

She's ornery, especially when it comes to this fucking shit. His hesitancy tells her that they hadn't intended for Franklin to tell her anything. Fuck that, she needs this.

"Man, I knew this shit was stupid," Franklin sighs.

She's having a hard time keeping her temper in check. This is getting fishier with every passing moment.

"What's fucking stupid?" Earline snaps.

Franklin leans forward and looks her dead in the eye.

"Trevor's my friend," Franklin says. "And if Lester is right about you, then you've been lying to him."

* * *

Trevor still fucking doesn't get why Michael insisted that Earline stay behind. Michael's just used to dealing with spineless individuals who can't handle themselves. He says Lester has bad news and he doesn't think Earline can handle it. That's bullshit. He knows she can handle anything. They don't fucking know her, not like he does. She's rough around the edges. Who fucking isn't? She's a strong fucking kid. They weren't having any of it though. Something's up. He knew it as soon as they walked through the door. He's waiting for the lecture to come. Michael's going to try and talk him out of this. That's the reason he wanted to get him alone. That's why it's just the two of them sitting in this shitty rental car.

That fat snake has that awkward fucking smile on his face too. Why does he even bother? They have too much history for Trevor to actually swallow this shit.

"So uh—how well you know this girl, T?" Michael asks.

Of fucking course. Here it fucking is. Trevor was right. He still doesn't have the full picture but he knows what's going down. Michael's questioning his judgment again. Giving him shit for the choices he's made. Fuck him. Michael gave up the right to judge Trevor when he faked his own death and betrayed everyone who ever gave two fucks about him.

"I know her pretty fucking well," Trevor says.

He doesn't know everything about her. She's got a big mouth but she keeps a lot of things to herself. People have shitty lives; it's rude to fucking pry. He knows all he needs to know about her. She practically worships him and it's the most glorious feeling in the fucking world.

"Are you sure about that?" Michael presses.

He's already pissed. Michael just has that condescending tone in his voice that instantly fills him with rage.

"Yeah, I fucking love her so I'm pretty fucking sure," Trevor snaps.

Michael's shaking his head. God fucking damn it. Michael's gotten him out of tight spots before but this isn't something he needs rescuing from.

"Jesus Christ," Michael sighs. "This is fucking Mrs. Madrazo all over again."

Trevor grabs the steering wheel and jerks it to the side. The car swerves off the pavement. Sparks fly into the air as the little sedan scrapes along the barrier. As they play their tug of war with the steering wheel, the car swerves erratically down the roadway. Trevor will pull this car over if it's the last fucking thing he does on this earth. He said it. He said the one fucking thing that put Trevor right over the edge. He can't even think after hearing that. His body only responds to the instinctual need to run away. He will kill to get away from this.

"Pull the fuck over!" Trevor demands.

Michael yanks the wheel back again, their heads jerk with the momentum of the car.

"Fucking do it!" Trevor roars.

He grabs the wheel again. They narrowly miss hitting an SUV. Michael gives up and slams on the brakes. The force from the stop nearly sends him flying through the fucking windshield. His instincts keep driving him forward. Trevor climbs out of the car and slams the door behind him. He's done with this shit. He's going back to Franklin's, grabbing the Bodhi and taking Earl and Wade back to Sandy Shores. Fuck her need for revenge. Fuck whatever Lester found and fuck Michael. Trevor curses under his breath as he storms off. He can hear the car door slamming behind him. He refuses to look back.

"God damn it, Trevor!" Michael hollers. "I'm trying to fucking help you out here!"

Isn't that fucking rich? Trevor turns on him. Just looking at that slick fuck makes him want to smash things.

"Really? Because it seems more like you're just trying to screw up this one fucking good thing I have going on right now!" Trevor growls.

Even Michael is starting to get red in the face from frustration.

"Would you fucking listen to me!?" Michael pleads.

A car honks at them as it drives by. He doesn't want to fucking listen. Not at fucking all.

"Why in the fuck should I listen to you?" Trevor seethes. "You've never been honest a single day in your goddamn life!"

Lying comes so easy to Michael and Trevor hates himself for ever believing him. For still believing in him.

"I don't want you to get hurt, T," Michael says. "Just get your head out of your ass for five fucking seconds and listen to me!"

He gets it now. It all makes fucking sense. They planned this out. Get Michael alone with Trevor; leave Franklin to make sure Earline doesn't come after him. Divide and fucking conquer.

"How the fuck would I get hurt?" Trevor presses. "What the fuck did Lester find?"

Michael approaches him slowly. His hands out in front of him as if he's coming up to a rabid dog.

"This guy she's after," Michael explains. "Goes by Mr. Woods. He's some serious shit. Serious as in, they don't hire him just to take out some punk kid."

This isn't right. That's exactly what Earline said she was. A punk kid. Kendrick or Karlos or whatever the fuck his name was. He was supposed to be a punk too.

"Look, Lester says this guy doesn't get a call unless someone really fucking nasty needs a job done," Michael goes on. "It just doesn't make sense that he'd come after her. Not if she's the person she says she is."

Not Earline. He feels sick. No, they're fucking wrong. They're wrong about her. She didn't fucking lie to him. She wouldn't.

"You're full of shit," Trevor snaps. "Why would she fucking lie to me?"

He's pacing back and forth on the shoulder of the road. The gravel crunches beneath his boots. This isn't happening. Not fucking again. He's not getting stabbed in the back. Not by her.

"She's a hustler, T, she makes money off of lies," Michael sighs.

Not him though. She wouldn't hustle him. Trevor lets out a guttural cry that sends the flock of pigeons perched on the power line flying.

"Lester looked her up too," Michael says. "Her story adds up, except for this Woods guy. We're thinking maybe she started to get into some serious shit. She just didn't tell you—"

He has to know. Trevor can't fuck around with this. After everything's he's done for her. After everything he's told her. He pushes past Michael and hops into the sedan.

"C'mon!" Trevor growls. "We're finding out, from the horse's fucking mouth."

Michael climbs into the passenger seat. Trevor shifts the car into gear and starts backing up into the street.

"What're you going to do if Lester is right?" Michael says.

Trevor knows exactly what he's going to do if Earline's been lying to him. It's what he was never able to do to Michael. She hasn't been with him for years. She hasn't gone through hell and back. He gave her his very heart and soul. She doesn't get the luxury of possessing years worth of happy memories with him. The concept of this all still tears him apart. He swings the car around and they start barreling down the road to Franklin's house.

"I'll fucking kill her," Trevor says.

* * *

Earline's trying not to cry. She ain't doing this in front of Franklin. She's scared shitless. She ain't got the slightest clue as to what's going on. She thought she wanted revenge more than anything else but she found out that's not the case at all. Trevor's riding around, alone with Michael, being told Lord knows what. She might lose all this. She might lose him. It feels like her chest is collapsing in on itself. Franklin doesn't seem the least bit moved by her blubbering. Fuck, why should he? He's just being a good friend to Trevor. Fuck, if she loses him, she'll kill them all. She has to get to him. She has to figure out what the fuck Lester found. What in the name of baby Jesus did they find to make them think she's lying to him? Earline tries to sprint back into the house. Franklin grabs her by the waist and pulls her back.

"You ain't going anywhere," Franklin says.

She pushes him away.

"Fuck you," Earline says.

Her voice is fucking cracking while she speaks. Jesus, she can't even keep her shit together. She's better than this. She's stronger than this.

"I ain't lied about nothing," Earline says. "I don't know where the fuck this idea came from but right now all I fucking care about is that bald ass mother fucker. He's the only fucking thing I've ever given a shit about and ever will."

Earline limps back into the house. Fuck, she don't even know where Michael took him. She can hear Franklin closing the sliding door behind her as he steps back inside. She tears apart the kitchen counters looking for the Bodhi's keys.

"Just sit your ass down," Franklin says. "If you ain't got nothing to worry about than just chill the fuck out."

People always say that shit and she hates it. She knows she's hidden nothing. She knows she has nothing to be afraid but the thought of Trevor believing, even for a split second, that she's betrayed him has her in a frenzy. When did she let herself get this way? When did she go off her rocker and get so tied up in another human being? She slips on the kitchen tile and has to catch herself on the counter top. Franklin flinches. He was going to try and catch her but stopped himself. So much for new friends.

"I just wanna know what's going on," Earline admits. "What did y'all find that made you think I been lying?"

Franklin just shakes his head. He don't look nearly as pretty with that sad look on his face.

"Man," Franklin sighs. "I really shouldn't tell you shit."

She lets the sob escape from her. She leans on the counter as if she'll fall right through the earth if she lets go.

"I know you ain't got no reasons to trust me," Earline chokes. "All I'm asking is—"

Earline is cut off by the sound of the front door splintering as it's thrown open. It slams into the wall. The crack echoes through out Franklin's cavernous house.

"What in the hell—" Franklin mutters.

She pushes herself away from the counter and starts limping towards the front door. There he stands, red faced. Trevor. She opens her mouth to speak but there's no chance for the words to come out. He grabs her by the neck and slams her into the wall.

"Have you fucking been lying to me!?" Trevor roars.

Earline coughs and squirms. Her tiny pink hands are wrapped around his thick wrists trying to pry those monstrous hands away. Trevor slams her into the wall again and the expensive abstract painting falls to the ground. Black and white stars are starting to creep into her vision. Michael and Franklin's protests sound like they're coming from a million miles away. Earline balls up her fist and draws it back. She can feel the stitches in her arm tearing as she thrusts her fist forward. Her knuckles crack when they meet with the bones of Trevor's face.

She gasps when Trevor releases her. She slides down the wall and slams into the hardwood floor. Trevor watches her hunched over on the floor, clutching at her neck as she coughs. She fucking hit him and it fucking hurt. He remembers Patricia's hand slapping him across the face after he huffed gasoline. Earline struggles to get back to her feet. When Franklin extends an arm she swats him away. She leans against the wall. Her freckled cheeks are flushed and her eyes are red and swollen.

"Fuck you," Earline snaps. "I ain't lied to you about shit."

Her voice trembles. She's hurt. Fuck he's hurt by all this.

"Y'all don't even have the fucking decency to tell me what the fuck is going on." Earline says. "Franklin tells me y'all think I'm hustling you. That's bullshit."

She slips on the slick surface of the wood but it doesn't stop her. She doesn't go down. She gets right in his fucking face. He can feel the tickle of the warm blood trickling out of his nostrils.

"I thought you had my back," Earline chokes.

He can feel the firm grip of Michael's hand on his shoulder. He thought Michael had his back for years and he was wrong about that. He's still not over it. When he looks in those green eyes of hers, shit, she looks like he's the one that's done the back stabbing. He wants it to be enough for him but he's not sure what will be. The words just aren't coming out because, as broken as she looks right now, he sees that fire in her eye.

"We need you to tell us what went down in Las Venturas," Michael says. "And I'd do it quickly before T here tries to snap you in half again."

He sounds so fucking cold. Getting right down to fucking business. Earline takes a step back from Trevor but she won't tear her eyes off of him. She's not doing this for them. She gives no shits about them.

"It's just like I told you before, Beer Can," Earline begins.

Hearing that nickname is too much right now.

"I met Kenny in a back alley, he was fucking scared shitless and starving to death," Earline says. "So I bought him some Cluckin Bell. He was just some scared little thing and I been on the streets like that. I know what it's like. Besides, I thought I'd get a nice screw out of it."

She cracks the joke but she's not smiling. She doesn't want to talk about this. He knows she hates it but he needs to hear it.

"It seems like the potential for a good screw is how everything starts off for me," Earline goes on.

She shifts her weight to her good leg. Her blonde curls falling into her face as she tilts her head. Her eyes are glazing over again with tears. There's the scared little girl again. The one that makes it feel like his heart is being ripped out of his chest.

"He never stopped being scared though," Earline says. "Never told me why, he never told me shit. I just know every time I stuck my hand down his pants that he'd piss himself and start crying. He was a weird little fucker but he was my friend and—"

He can't anymore. He can't watch her like this. She never lied. She has nothing to hide. Trevor wraps his arm around her and pulls her close. She lets go. Shaking and blubbering like a kid who skinned their knee. They were wrong. They were fucking wrong. She never lied. She never hid anything; she just didn't want to talk about it because it hurt too much.

"We're done here," Trevor says.

Trevor starts to usher her out the door.

"Trevor—" Michael presses.

"We're done," Trevor snaps.

Trevor listens to the sound of Franklin's muffled voice as he convinces Michael to let them go. Smart fucking kid. He was scared. That's why he grabbed her. That's why he tried to throttle her. He thought it was going to be North Yankton all over again. Trevor thought for an agonizing moment that he was going to be abandoned yet again. He thought he was going to lose this stupid fucking punk kid he picked up off the street. He thought about all the precious moments they shared and how much they meant to him. The thought of all of that being a farce was too fucking much for him. He helps her climb into the passenger seat of the Bodhi. He doesn't regret a thing though. He felt pain and he reacted. He's a human fucking being.

He knocked her down and she just got right back up. Earline cared enough to fight back. To fight for him. She looks more of a mess then she usually does. It's a strange sight to see her swollen red eyes and tear streaked cheeks.

"I wanna go home," Earline croaks.

Trevor starts up the Bodhi. The engine rumbles and the car jerks as he shifts it into gear.

"And I want ice cream," Trevor says.

They barely say a word to each other. Something shifted today. Trevor can feel it in his bones. They have a mountain of shit they need to sort out and it's long overdue. Especially fucking now. Shit's always messy with him. His whole fucking life everything's been a god damn mess. Trevor just put it all out there without fear of consequence or heart break. It's kicked him in the ass so many times. He has scars upon scars to prove it too. He doesn't want that for her. He doesn't want this scared kid to ever put up with half of the shit he did. Trevor wants something better for Earline. It won't be easy and she's going to get her ass kicked too. That's just fucking life. Working this horse shit out isn't going to be easy but it needs to be done.

She finally cracks a smile when he hands her the ice cream cone. The chocolate sludge is already oozing down the sides of the cone onto his fingers. He sits down on the green wooden bench next to her. Tourists in cargo shorts and bikini tops parade up and down the side walk. Tacky hats and t-shirts seem to spill out of the store front doorways. Seagulls screech and children scream as they run along the white sands of the beach. It's a beautiful fucking day and he feels like he's been run over by a bulldozer.

"I'm sorry," Trevor says.

He has to shove half the cone down his throat for this one. The white cream is smeared all over his ragged face.

"You better be," Earline says.

Fucking Christ! Why does she have to be such a little cunt? God damn it though, he'd be mad too if he was her.

"I have abandonment issues," Trevor says. "Everyone I've ever cared about has either stabbed me in the back or ditched me. So, fucking forgive me if I get a little testy when I think I'm losing someone."

If she'd gone through what he had in his life, she'd understand. If she can't accept this part of him then he might as well slit her throat right fucking here because she won't stick around.

"I ain't got a clue who my Mammy and Pappy are," Earline says. "I hopped around foster homes in Texas cause nobody wanted a nasty cripple girl around. I know what it's like to be tossed out with the trash. You're the first person that's ever stuck around. That made me feel like I was worth something. I would do anything for you. I would never lie to you."

This fucking kid. He wraps his arm around her and pulls her close. The remnants of his ice cream are getting rubbed into her mass of wild hair. He strokes the coarse strands. She's shaking like a leaf in his arms and he hates it.

"I'll never leave you, kid," Trevor promises. "It's not always gonna be pretty, shit, it's probably going to get a tad bloody but as long as we stick together it'll be all right."

She believes him. Some part of her still feels raw and hurt from this little bump in the road. Earline slides away from him. She still ain't got a taste for this ice cream. There's barely any left now. It's pretty much everywhere except in her mouth.

"So what happened?" Earline asks. "Why'd you get that notion in your head?"

It don't matter to her no more what Lester found. She just wants to know what brought him to that point that he was doubting how much he could trust her. If she gets that answer she can put this behind her.

"That guy who killed your friend, his name is Woods," Trevor explains. "He's expensive. Expensive enough that he's only hired if somebody really dangerous needs to get whacked."

But Kenny wasn't dangerous. Neither was she. It doesn't make sense. They were just two kids trying to get by. Yeah, they stuck up some places but how could that piss off someone with enough money to send that mother fucker after them? He was so fucking quiet. There was so much she didn't know about him. Maybe there was more to it than she thought. It's unsettling. Almost as much as the rest of the shit that went down today. So Kenny's just going to be one more fucking thing in her sad fucking life that she was wrong about.

"I ain't got the slightest clue why someone would fork out that kind of green over Kenny," Earline says.

She don't like this feeling this news is bringing her. She's had to put up with a lot of emotions that she ain't too fond of today.

"I mean Kenny—shit—he wasn't nothing to worry about," Earline says. "At least that's what I thought-"

She feels like a dumb teenager again. It was just like all the other times she was getting fucked over and she didn't have any idea. Jesus, she's dumb.

"I'm sorry your friend wasn't who you thought he was," Trevor says.

He doesn't envy her. This realization she's having is the worst thing in the world. He felt his blood turn to ice all those months ago when he saw that news report. At least Earline can hate him. At least she doesn't have to cope with the muddled concoction of love and loathing that Trevor deals with everyday over Michael. Never again will he allow this to happen to her. He would track down a thousand mafia hitmen to stop her from ever having to experience this again.

"It don't matter no more," Earline says.

She leans her head on his broad shoulder. They're covered in the sticky residue of melted ice cream, surrounded by laughter and joyous faces. She should be dying inside and she doesn't even care. She's more resilient than he ever could've hoped.

"Why not?" Trevor asks.

"Because I've got you and that's all that matters anymore," Earline says.

Trevor pulls her face to meet his. Her cone falls to the ground. The soggy wafer collapsing in from the weight of the half melted chocolate treat. He can still taste the ice cream on her lips. She may not care right now. She may not know how she's supposed to feel. He knows she's still thirsty for Woods' blood. Earline has to sort through this mess on her own. Shit, she might never come around to it. He never has. She's so strong though and she hasn't endured what he has. Her dreams haven't been completely trampled. She's been through the ringer but Earline possesses something Trevor didn't have at her age. He didn't have it until he met Michael and Michael came just a little too late. She has someone who gives a shit. When the desire returns, he'll be there with a gun in hand because as long as he's around, she will never feel alone again.


	10. Sometimes It's A Bitch

_Author's Note:_

_So, I must apologize again. I grossly underestimated my work load this term. I've worked out an actual schedule to follow for myself. I would very much so like to update this more frequently. Since I felt guilty about the slow updates I made this one extra long. I also get the feeling the chapters are going to keep getting longer with this as the plot is a lot more complex than my last fanficiton. Sorry again for the wait. _

* * *

Trevor wasn't surprised to hear from old Mikey after all the shit that went down yesterday. They had a lot that they needed to sort out. He was fucking exhausted though. He and Earl didn't do too much sleeping last night. They didn't do much talking either. Trevor took her back to the Vanilla Unicorn. Wade was practically shitting himself with joy when they returned. Trevor told him to fuck off and then locked himself away in his office with Earline. But the night was done and there was work to be done now.

There isn't much to be heard while he stands in the middle of the scrap yard. Occasionally when the warm breeze passes through the rickety building, he can hear the walls creaking. Piles of rusted, twisted metal surround him on the hill top. Brown dust clings to his boots. He stares down the road watching the cars climbing up the hillside. The smog filled city spread out behind them. He recognizes the dented up rental car that he and Michael fucked up yesterday and Franklin's slick white ride coming in behind it.

Michael's going to lecture him. Franklin will defuse the argument that will ensue and then pursue to give them both hell for arguing so much. No matter how this goes down, Trevor's going to walk away in a shitty mood. He was worried about leaving Earline behind. She seemed out of it. She didn't even put up a fight when he told her he was taking off this morning. She had no snarky comments, no immature protests, she just asked when he'd be back and that was that. It wasn't in her nature to be this quiet and he didn't like it.

Shit, the kid probably wanted some time for herself. Yesterday wasn't exactly a fun jaunt for her. She got a mountain of shit dumped on her. He knows how she is feeling too. He hates the fact that he does. He knows what it's like to realize the one friend you had in this world wasn't the person you thought they were. Trevor still can't look at Michael sometimes because, as much as he wants it to be the way it was, he'll never be able to go back to that.

He watches his friends climb out of their cars. A cloud of dust still hangs in the air around them. They don't look like they're in any better shape than he is. The Unholy fucking Trinity is reunited under shitty circumstances yet again. There's no boisterous greeting, no pats on the back or hugs, they're all painfully aware of the shit they need to discuss today and the mood isn't exactly high.

"Let's get this over with," Trevor growls. "I got places I need to be."

Michael shakes his head. His lips are pursed, it's not a flattering look for him; it never was.

"This is going to take as long as it fucking has to," Michael snaps. "And you're not going anywhere until it's over."

Here it fucking goes. Already. He may be going out of his way to be here but he doesn't need to fucking act like it. He's more here for himself than anything else. He's really fucking concerned about this little affair now that they're dealing with a man like Mr. Woods.

"So fucking talk," Trevor seethes. "You're the one who wanted to meet up."

They would've done this eventually. It doesn't really matter who pushed for it to happen. They're a team. At least he hopes that's still the case.

"Both y'all need to knock that shit off right now," Franklin warns. "We got enough shit going on as it is; don't be adding your bickering to that."

Trevor finds himself wondering how they made it so many years without Franklin there sometimes. He's literally stopped the two of them from killing each other on multiple occasions.

"First things first," Michael sighs. "How full of shit is your lady friend?"

Fucking hell, that just rubs him the wrong way. Trevor scrunches up his face in anger. He can feel heat rushing to his cheeks as the fury starts to flicker within him.

"She's good, Michael," Trevor snaps. "She had no fucking clue and I believe her. That should be enough for you."

Michael cracks his neck. That slick little fucker. He can tell by the look in his eyes that it's not enough for him. Fucking figures.

"Well, forgive me but it's not," Michael says.

Jesus fucking Christ, he could just rip that head off of his stubby fucking neck right now. Trevor starts to pace back and forth.

"Not fucking enough!? You don't fucking trust me?" Trevor roars. "I know when I'm being lied to! Earl ain't lying! She didn't know shit about any of this!"

Michael holds his head in his hands. Fuck him. Trevor isn't one of his spoiled offspring, he doesn't need to treat him like he's a naïve little shit. He knows it's coming from a place of love but Trevor still hates it.

"Yes, Trevor, of course," Michael says sarcastically. "You're a fucking mind reader, I completely fucking forgot!"

Trevor starts for him. Michael doesn't even flinch when he gets right in his face. Getting a close up look at those cold blues eyes only gets him even more revved up.

"Fuck you!" Trevor growls. "Just because you're a professional fucking liar doesn't mean the rest of the world is!"

Franklin gets between the two of them before they even get a chance to lunge for each other. The kid's seen too many of their squabbles now to let them get very far.

"Enough!" Franklin snaps. "Let's just drop this, alright? If she turns out to be a problem we can handle her ass. We dealt with motherfuckers that were a lot harder than her stanky ass. What we need to fucking figure out is what we're doing about this Woods motherfucker."

Michael puts his hands up; he's surrendered, for now. Trevor's still amped up; it's going to be a while before he can come down. He takes a step back. As much as he would enjoy beating the living shit out of Michael, he knows he'd never be able to actually bring himself to do it. Even if Franklin wasn't here, he still couldn't do it. Franklin's eyes dart between the two them and his wide frame is still positioned between the two of them.

"Now we need to keep a fucking eye out," Franklin explains. "He obviously recognized your friend, man, and since we chased his ass half way across Los Santos, I'm pretty damn sure we're on his radar now too."

Michael sighs. It's a sound that's heavy with the taint of frustration. The expression doesn't do much for Trevor's mood.

"We're not sure it's our problem yet, Franklin," Michael adds. "You got a point, I can't deny that but it seemed to me that Woods was just as fucking surprised to see Earline as she was to see him. He's probably got his shit figured out by now. Which means two things-"

Michael cracks his neck before he goes on.

"Either he got the hell out of dodge," Michael continues. "Or he's getting ready to clean up the rest of this fucking mess he's stumbled into."

Neither of these possibilities makes things easy for Earline. That's all Trevor cares about. At least if Woods is out for their heads they can just wait for him to come to them. A man like Woods is good at hiding and if he's taken off, even Trevor won't be able to help Earl.

"Well, we can't just sit on our fucking asses," Trevor snaps. "Standing around waffling on like a bunch of fucking soccer moms doesn't solve our fucking problem."

Trevor's not sure what it was about his last statement but Michael has to look away from him. Trevor's words are bothering the oily fuck.

"You need to talk to Lester about this, T," Michael says.

The fat fuck still won't look at him. He fucking gets it now too. There was no 'we' for Michael. He can't fucking ditch Trevor again. He wouldn't dare.

"Fucking great," Trevor says. "Lester ain't exactly been eager to lend a hand lately."

Michael's always fucking insisting on Lester's involvement. Yeah, the little shit tracked down Woods, that was helpful, but Trevor could orchestrate all this on his own. It might end up being a tad messier than if Lester did it but things would still work out.

"He's just looking out for himself," Michael says. "You'd do the same if you were in his position."

That at least makes him laugh.

"I would never do the same as that fat fucking slug," Trevor snaps.

"He's gonna wanna get paid for this," Michael says. "Especially now that he knows what we're dealing with."

He knows it's true but Trevor doesn't want to see any of his hard earned money end up in the fuck's slimy little fingers. He promised he'd help Earline with this and he intends to do this but he isn't going to just hand Woods to her. He wouldn't be a good mentor if he did that. It's a morbid fucking thought but it's a fact. He's a hell of a lot older than her and it's likely he's going to kick the bucket first. It's not just about his greed. It's about an opportunity for a lesson that needs to be taught. He needs to make sure she can handle shit like this in the future, when he's not around. That's what a good fucking mentor does.

"This is Earl's problem, she's gonna pay for it," Trevor says.

That comment catches Michael off guard. He whirls around to look Trevor in the face again. Even Franklin seems taken aback.

"And how the fuck is she going to do that?" Michael pries. "I thought she was screwing you so she could sleep on your couch?"

Well, that's how it started out. Things have gotten more serious now but that doesn't mean she stopped being his protégé.

"We'll pull something," Trevor says. "I'm sure a bank job should be enough to stop Lester's whining."

Michael cracks a smile and shakes his head.

"Fine whatever, I don't care," Michael sighs. "However you want to deal with this, it doesn't matter to me. This isn't my fucking problem."

So he's really not coming along for the ride? That stings a bit but Trevor really isn't fucking surprised.

"Of course," Trevor teases. "We can't have you breaking a fucking nail now, can we?"

Michael just shrugs him off. Trevor won't let family life ruin him like that. Not a fucking chance.

"What about you, Franky?" Trevor presses.

Franklin's looking down at his feet. This is a decision that is obviously not coming easily to him. Trevor hopes Michael's influence over him hasn't turned the kid into a selfish prick too.

"I don't know man," Franklin says. "I gotta think about this, alright?"

Fuck it all. A 'maybe' is better than nothing. He doesn't need them. Earline might though. He's confident he can help her through this but she can't do it on her own. Not yet. She did get away from Woods once before though. If she survived that ordeal, she's strong enough to make it through this. It still has him feeling uneasy. If his two closest friends are trying to pull out of this now, are they going to ditch him down the line? Fucking Christ, everybody leaves him in the end.

"Don't disappoint me," Trevor warns. "If I really need you guys, you'll be there, right?"

Michael pats him on the back and flashes that fake fucking smile of his.

"Of course we will, T," Michael assures him.

He wants to believe him but he wasn't there for nine fucking years so he's finding it hard to.

"We been through crazier shit than this," Franklin says. "I mean let's face it, this really ain't shit to us."

It really fucking isn't. They had the FIB, Merryweather, Chinese gangsters, millionaires and hoodlums gunning for them. One hitman won't be able to bring them down. The cleanup may be messy but Trevor has enough money that he can bail Earline out if needed. He wants her to do as much of this on her own as possible. He'll be there. He'll help her rob the bank, he'll help her track the fucker down and put a bullet in his brain. He'll be there when they dump his body and if she really needs it he'll lay down every last penny he has to keep her out of prison. He wants her to spread her wings but if she truly needs him he will be there.

* * *

The bright red slushy is slowly dissolving in the styrofoam cup. Earline's been nursing it for hours now as she sits on the hot curb. She couldn't stay at the club. She was being plagued with too many memories. Yesterday stirred up a whole mess of shit. She couldn't find words for the chaos churning inside her. She was certain of only two things: her desire to spill blood and her deep need to go home. The styrofoam cracks beneath her tightening grasp. She brings the cup to her lips and takes another gulp. The back of her throat burns from the vodka she spiked it with. She ain't done this in a long time.

Los Santos ain't that different from Las Venturas, not the shitty parts. The Strip may have been sparkling and glamorous but the gas stations and hood rats were just like the ones back there. It ain't nearly as hot here as it was there. No one pays her any mind as they walk buy. She watches the afternoon traffic start to thicken as everyone gets off work. The parking lot smells like gasoline and cigarettes. Part of her expects to see Kenny's ass planted next to her when she turns her head. They used to do this from time to time.

She'd buy them a couple of slushies and spike them. They'd shoot the shit and laugh. She digs her fingernails into the cup and it cracks. The foam breaks and the thick, icy syrup leaks out all over her hand. Earline curses and tosses the cup across the parking lot. Reliving old memories ain't doing nothing to help her sort anything out. It crosses her mind that Trevor ain't going to be too keen about her taking off like this. She ain't really in the position to piss him off anymore.

She couldn't sleep none last night. Her mind just kept rerunning every single moment she spent with Kenny up until Mr. Woods put a bullet between his eyes. She pulls her tin of dip out of her coat pocket. She ain't sure just exactly what needs easing but she knows something needs to be set straight. Fuck, she really thought her life was all sorted out. As sad as it was to think that a psychotic gun runner had sorted her life out, it was true. Now, she's feeling mighty stupid again.

Her fingers pry open the tin and scoop out a helping of the dip. Earline tucks the precious ambrosia into her mouth. For some reason, she keeps dwelling on one dumb night, about a week before Kenny got popped. It keeps sticking out in her mind like a beacon now. At the time she was too fucking stupid to pay it no mind. It bothered her while she was on the run too. It's just bugging her now for a whole new mess of reasons.

They didn't have two pennies to rub together. They were crashing at some nasty drug dealer's house but he was getting tired of Earline's pussy and was more interested in some cold hard cash. Earline knew she and Kenny needed to go stick up a liquor store or something. It was way past due. He was perched by the window. The busted up blinds were casting crooked, jagged lines of light across Kenny's slender face. Boy looked grey, as if he'd seen the Grim Reaper himself. Like, Earline gave a shit. He'd gotten like that from time to time.

She may have been an ignorant little shit at the time but she could still tell there was something queer that night. Earline kept pushing him because they needed to go out if they expected to keep this roof over their head for much longer. Kenny didn't have nothing to say. He didn't even budge. He just kept those big eyes of his glued to the window. She kept teasing him until he finally lost his shit.

Kenny wasn't the sort to scream. In her whole time knowing him, he ain't never showed a lick of anger in him. He was just a scared kid. When they robbed joints he clutched onto his gun, hands shaking like a leaf, while she did most of the work. But that night, he went off on her. He gave her shit for being a nasty cunt that spread her legs for anything with a pulse. Kenny had spittle flying out of his mouth he was yelling so much. The veins in his scrawny neck were bulging and his face was dark red. It got real nasty. Nasty enough that she took off. She mugged some poor lady at a bus stop and beat the crap out of her. Earline came back in the morning and that was that. They never talked about it and they never got a chance too.

She gets it now. She gets why he went off on her. He was always a skiddish little shit but he knew. He fucking knew that he had it coming. She should've picked up on that. He never acted that way around her. She tilts her head and spits on the concrete. The splatter of brown saliva reminds her of the spray of bloody chunks coating the windshield of her car. Why hadn't Kenny warned her? What did a scared little shit like him do to get the Cleaner brought down on his head? What bothered her the most wasn't the whys and the hows of it all. It was the fact that she'd been too fucking thick to pay it any mind at the time.

Everyone's done shit. Earline of all people understands that. Kenny never lied to her. He just didn't say shit about his past. Neither did she. It was just a courtesy they provided each other. They didn't pry into each other's background. It was a mutual understanding shared between friends. She knew he must've been through some fucked up shit to end up where he did. It was a weird thing but they were fucking friends. He could've been her Michael or her Franklin. He could've been her brother until the end.

The cheap phone in her pocket starts to vibrate and the ringtone starts to play. Fuck, Wade's either calling to try and get her to come back or Trevor's found out she took off. When she's sees it's Trevor calling she can't decide if she's dreading this call or excited just to hear his voice. She's in a dark place right now, she don't want to be in trouble with him. Earline brings the phone to her ear.

"Yes, Beer Can?" Earline says.

She doesn't even try to sound cheery. Fuck, it seems like it ain't ever going to be possible for her to sound happy ever again.

"I'm headed back," Trevor says.

The sound of his gruff voice makes her smile. She can't fucking help it. She was wrong, she can feel happy again and it's all because of this nasty, redneck, old fuck.

"Why can't I hear the club music?" Trevor growls.

Well shit.

"I went out," Earline says.

She should be terrified when he growls but she finds the sound intensely arousing even when she's in this shitty mood.

"God fucking damn it, Earl!" Trevor roars. "Couldn't you fucking listen to me for once!? I told you to fucking stay at the club with Wade. How fucking difficult is that for you!?"

God damn, he is certainly gifted with the ability to piss her off instantly.

"You ain't in charge of me!" Earline snaps. "I can do what I want!"

She doesn't want this shit today. Shit, she's liable to punch him in the fucking face again if he shows up.

"No! I am in fucking charge of you!" Trevor roars.

His voice is coming in so loudly over the phone that it's hurting her ear.

"I am your fucking boss! I tell you what to fucking do and you fucking do it!" Trevor says. "Where the fuck are you!?"

Earline tears the phone away from her ear. She's ready to smash it on the asphalt but she can't bring herself to do it. Her face is hot with anger. Some pussy in a floral shirt is watching the scene unfold. He doesn't seem like he wants to stick around for long.

"I'm at the gas station, down the street from the club," Earline seethes. "I dare you to fucking come here so I can kick your wrinkly ass you decrepit motherfucker!"

"What did you just fucking call me?" Trevor hisses.

His tone sends a chill down her spine. She ain't shitting herself though. She can find no fucks to give.

"I said you're a decrepit motherfucker," Earline says.

"You're fucking dead!"Trevor roars.

He hangs up before she can get in another word. At least now she can put a clear label to how she's feeling. She's fucking pissed. Pissed enough that she wants to drown the entire fucking world. She slips on the concrete as she tries to get to her feet. The buzz she's got going on from the slushy isn't helping her with motor control. She limps across the parking lot to the sidewalk. She'll be fucking ready for him. That's if he actually comes. If he doesn't, she'll just find some other sad fuck to beat the living shit out of. She doesn't care if he could kill her with his bare hands. She just wants to hit something.

She knows he's coming near when she hears the screech of tires and the wailing horns. Sunlight glints off of the Bodhi's headlights as it barrels down the wrong side of the road. Cars swerve out of its way. He could run her down right here. The grill of that pink truck is coming straight for Earline's face. The tires smoke and the chassis jerks as Trevor brings the Bodhi to a stop. His face is a deep shade of red. That mean mug of his is petrifying. He leaps out of the truck, leaving the door wide open.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" Trevor growls.

He's starting for her. Running doesn't even cross her mind. Like it would matter, he'd catch her before she got very far.

"What the fuck are _you _doing?" Earline mocks. "Why do you have to be such a fucking hard ass!?"

He grabs her by the hair and yanks her back toward the truck.

"Stop being such a fucking brat!" Trevor says.

Earline can hear the sound of her hair being torn from her scalp. The pain barely registers to her at all. She squirms and flails to try and break away from him. She finally manages to tear herself away. The sickening sound of her hair being torn from her scalp makes her grit her teeth. She pulls away. A tangled clump of her straw colored hair is clutched in his hands.

"Fuck off!" Earline says. "Can't I just get some time to my fucking self!?"

He tosses her hair to the ground. Trevor comes for her again. This time when he grabs a hold of her, she knows there's no getting out. Trevor pins her arms to her side. The more she thrashes to try and get away the tighter his grasp becomes.

"I'm going to rip your still beating heart right out of your fucking chest!" Trevor seethes.

"Too fucking late," Earline snaps.

Her heart was torn out as soon as she realized Kenny wasn't the person she thought he was. That her best friend, her brother, was hiding things from her. Earline stares into Trevor's intense brown eyes. It's not him she hates. It's not him she wants to strangle but he's the one facing her fury. The last fucking person on the planet who deserves any of this is the one who has to deal with it. She can hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance. They both go rigid.

"Fuck, it's the cops," Trevor says.

Not a big fucking surprise considering the fucking road rage fueled rampage he just went on.

"Get in the fucking truck," Trevor orders.

Earline starts to head for the passenger side and he pushes her away. What the fuck is he doing? They need to fucking go, now.

"No no no," Trevor snaps. "You caused this, you're getting us out of here."

"Really!? Fucking now!?" Earline presses.

He climbs into the passenger seat. The sound of the sirens only grows louder with every passing second. Fuck, he's serious. She limps over to the driver's side. Of all the fucking times for him to pull a stunt like this, he has to do it now? She climbs into the seat and slams the door. There's no time anymore. Even though her foot can barely reach the pedals they have to go now. She shifts the Bodhi into gear.

"Fucking go!" Trevor orders.

Earline's heart feels like it's going to hammer its way right out of her chest. Why couldn't he drive? He's the fucking expert. She whirls the Bodhi around and starts careening down the street. She reaches up and adjusts the rear view mirror. She can see the cop cars come flying down the road. Shit, if she knew these streets better, maybe she could lose them but this town is like a labyrinth to her.

"Go right," Trevor says.

The strong, steady tone of his voice makes it hard for her to remember that he still might want to kill her. The Bodhi fishtails as she takes it around the corner. She can feel the back wheel pop off the ground a bit and the sensation makes her gut flutter.

"Fucking be careful!" Trevor roars. "You'll roll us, this isn't some fucking sports car! It handles like shit."

"Fuck off!" Earline snaps.

She's half tempted to pull over and throttle him but the need to escape is overpowering her rage. Earline weaves the Bodhi through the thick traffic. They picked the perfect fucking time of day to get the cops called on them. Fucking rush hour.

"Shut up and do as I say!" Trevor says. "Do you want to fucking end up in a jail cell!?"

With how mad he is, that might be the best option for her. Earline bites down on her bottom lip. The sirens are still blaring in her ears. The red and blue lights are still flashing in the reflection of her mirror. She never lets off the gas. The Bodhi's engine roars as they thunder down the road. She can see a familiar intersection ahead. Train tracks running through a shitty neighborhood.

"Get on the tracks," Trevor says.

Is he fucking insane?

"What?" Earline says.

Trevor leans over and jerks the wheel. Earline's hands frantically work around the wheel as she turns the Bodhi around.

"I said shut up and listen!" Trevor growls.

"Okay okay!" Earline says.

As soon as the Bodhi gets on the tracks it starts to bounce and rock like a rodeo bull. Earline can barely keep the truck steady as they rumble down the tracks. This is going to kill this truck. He's fucking nuts but he's never been wrong. She can barely hear his laughter over the chaotic storm of noise that's engulfed them. Up ahead she can see the dark abyss of a tunnel. When they enter the darkness Earline's breath catches in her throat. It's as if her heart stop beating for an instant in time.

"Stop in here," Trevor hollers.

She thought going down the tracks at full speed was bad but stopping was worse. The Bodhi bucks so hard that she feels herself rising out of the seat and slamming back into it. The truck's not going to be the only thing that's fucked up. Her back is going to be punishing her for this tomorrow. The tires slip on the loose gravel and she scrapes the Bodhi along the side of the tunnel. Sparks fly off behind them. Trevor cuffs her up the side of the head and curses at her. Earline finally brings the truck to a stop. Her arms are shaking. She's not sure if it's from terror or the lingering anger from their fight. She reaches for the ignition and Trevor slaps her hand away.

"We're on the fucking tracks you idiot," Trevor explains. "You want this to be running if a train comes."

Fucking Christ. Earline's damn sure she shit herself a little bit after that comment. He leans back in his seat with a devilish grin on his face. Back to fucking normal already? As long as she can still hear the muffled echoes of the sirens she won't be able to relax.

"What now?" Earline asks.

"We wait," Trevor says. "And if you hear the train coming-gun it."

Only he would think of this escape route. Shit, he's a crazy son of a bitch. The adrenaline is still pumping through her veins. Her brain is too high from the rush to linger on anything profound. The sound of the sirens is starting to fade away and she actually feels a flicker of relief. Trevor presses his hand to her shoulder. It's not the rough grip he was using on her earlier. It's that reassuring touch that she's come to rely on so desperately.

Her heart sinks when she hears the far off sound of the train's whistle blowing. Nothing is going to come easy today. Not a single fucking thing. She starts cranking the wheel to get them back on the tracks. The sound of the whistle is growing louder at a rate much faster than she would like.

"C'mon, c'mon!" Trevor presses.

The tires spin and fling gravel all over the tunnel. Finally she gets the Bodhi going on the tracks again. This time, she's too busy shitting herself to notice the pain shooting up her spine from every bump they experience. The train's whistle echoes off of the walls. Trevor hoots with delight as they race toward the blinding white light at the end of the tunnel. The roar of the train's engine is ringing in her ears.

When they burst out of the tunnel, Earline is rendered sightless. Earline lets out a string of horror filled curses as her eyes slowly adjust to the shift in light. She can feel Trevor's weight as he leans over and jerks the wheel to the side. They swerve off the tracks and crash through a chain link fence. The twisted heap of wire clings to the Bodhi as they skid into the industrial complex. Earline slams on the brakes as the train thunders past behind them. The blood chilling sensation of the rumbling earth doesn't cease until the last train car has flown by.

"Holy shit!" Trevor cheers. "That was fucking great!"

It was. It was fucking amazing. Earline finds herself swept up in his laughter. She cackles with him. Sweat is pouring down her face. She leans back in the seat, her chest rising and falling with every breath she takes. That was better than fucking. That was better than crystal.

"Well, kid!?" Trevor presses.

Earline grabs a hold of Trevor. She laces her fingers through his greasy hair and presses her mouth over his. His broad hands press into the small of her back, pushing her body against his. The acrid flavor of her mouth doesn't stop the hungry thrusts of his tongue. His hands deftly remove her shorts and slide them over the curve of her rear. She's too aroused to act with such grace. Her hands clumsily fumble with his pants as she tries to tear them off.

Trevor eases her down onto the car seat. The rough surface of his calloused fingers, running across the tender flesh of her thigh makes her shiver. He's able to do what she failed to. Earline gnaws on her bottom lip as she watches him undo his fly. She ain't never wanted anything more than this right here. The Bodhi's shocks squeak as the truck rocks back and forth. The rush from their escape has filled her with a high like no other. She lets him fuck the pain away even if she knows the chaos will take hold again when this all slips away.

Trevor takes her over the edge. The cries of their final release echo off of the empty cargo containers that surround them. The glow of the setting sun casts the world in a fiery orange hue. The violet shadows of the power lines fall across the vacant complex like a spider's web. A mangled, twisted heap of fencing still clings to the Bodhi's fender. Trevor watches Earline squirm around as she tries to pull her shorts back on. Part of him still wants to strangle her for earlier but the angry fuck and the thrill ride of running from the cops helped quell his temper.

Earline pushes her mass of blonde hair away from her face. She's got a nice bloody patch on her scalp from the chunk of hair he tore out. With that wild mane on her head, hardly anyone is going to notice. The light he saw on that freckled face as they made love is already starting to fade away. He knows exactly what she's enduring right now. He didn't have the luxury of someone to help him pick up the pieces though when he went through this. For that he is envious of her.

The smile falls away from Earline's face. Sweat drips down the curves of her neck. It drives him nuts how she closes herself off. He's slowly beating that habit out of her. One day they'll laugh about how she used to be like this.

"Mind telling me why you went ape shit on me earlier?" Trevor presses.

She sighs. Her green eyes flicker over to gaze at him. If she wants to have a fucking staring contest it's not doing shit to end this conversation.

"I told y'all, I just needed some time to myself," Earline says.

That's the last fucking thing she needs right now. Hours spent alone, contemplating all the tiny details of her relationship with Kenny, cursing her idiocy and hating herself for not seeing things for what they really were. No, he went through that. He still faces it every day of his miserable fucking life.

"Are you going to actually answer my fucking question, or just feed me the same line of bullshit you've been giving me all day," Trevor snaps.

Her tiny features pinch up. Fuck, she's adorable when she's pissed. It's so easy to set her off.

"I'm not doing this again," Earline groans. "Can we just go home?"

She won't look him in the eye as she speaks. God damn, he understands why she's being a pouty little shit but he doesn't want to deal with it.

"Look!" Trevor growls. "I'm not fucking stupid. I know what's going on with you! Even if you fucking don't!"

"You don't know shit!" Earline says.

He cuffs her up the side of the head. Shouldn't she have fucking figured out by now that she can get nothing past him? The cocky little fuck.

"I know plenty of shit!" Trevor says. "I know that you've been beating yourself up ever since we found out about Woods! I know what it's like to realize your best fucking friend isn't the person you thought they were! And I know you didn't start screaming at me because you're pissed with me! You lost it because you're angry at the fucking world!"

Earline's bottom lip is trembling. She's keeping her gaze fixed at the cracked windshield of the Bodhi. He can still detect the angry tears welling up in her eyes.

"I'll give you that one fucking free ticket, Earl!" Trevor goes on. "If you ever treat me like that again, when it's not my fault, I will fucking kill you. I don't deserve that shit and you fucking know it."

He stares at the hunched frail thing sitting next to him. When she turns her head to face him it's like looking in the mirror. Her whole world has been shattered and he knows the feeling all too well.

"It just hurts like a bitch," Earline chokes. "He was like my brother. We made each other laugh. When shit got bad we were there to pick each other back up. I mean I knew it couldn't last forever but to find out that he was hiding something that big from me—"

Earline wipes a tear away from her freckled cheek.

"Was he ever really my friend at all?" Earline says. "Or was he just like every other fucking asshole that's used me for something? I can't rightly swallow that."

She wraps her arms around Trevor's waist and pulls herself closer. He can feel the warmth of her body pressed against his side. He cradles her in his arms as if he's handling priceless china.

"I'm just so mad at myself," Earline says.

"I know," Trevor says.

He wishes he didn't but he can't change his past, neither can she.

"I feel so fucking stupid. I thought I was smarter than that," Earline goes on.

His shirt is growing damp from her snot and tears. She's holding onto him as if letting go would mean certain death.

"I know," Trevor says.

Those feelings are still so raw for him. He would still die for Michael; he would march through a thousand miles of mud for that man. He mourned him once, nearly ten years ago, and he never really healed from that. When he found out the truth it was like losing Michael all over again. He just couldn't let go of the love he held for that son of a bitch, no matter how much time went by, no matter how hard he tried.

"What hurts the most," Earline explains. "Is that I still love that bastard. I still want to kill that son of a bitch who gunned him down because he took Kenny away from me."

Trevor slips his fingertips beneath her chin and tilts her face up. Her eyes are puffy and red from crying, those unkempt brows furrowed in distress.

"I fucking know," Trevor says. "I fucking know, Earl."

At least she doesn't have to feel completely alone. She has him to guide her through this. It's a miserable fucking mess and no matter what she does its always going to torment her because it's never let up for him. If killing Woods makes any bit of damn difference for her than she's damn fucking lucky.

"I'm sorry that you do," Earline says.

He could say the same for her but he's grateful because now he feels just little bit less lonely knowing someone in this world is feeling the same kind of pain he is.

"I won't leave you, Earl, "Trevor assures. "But if you ever abandon me, I will track you down and put you in the ground myself."

She chuckles weakly and nuzzles her face into his lap.

"You've changed my life too much for me to ever walk away," Earline says. "I'm pretty sure I'd end up dead without your nasty ass around."

She's starting to get snarky again. She's bouncing back.

"Then continue to avoid the clutches of Natural Selection by sticking with me," Trevor teases.

Earline shoots up and decks him in the shoulder. It actually fucking hurts too.

"Don't be a turd," Earline snaps.

The smile on her face tells him she's not really cross with him.

"C'mon, let's go get Wade," Trevor says. "It's time to go home."

Earline's face lights up like a fucking Christmas tree.

"Really?" She asks.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Trevor says. "C'mon we've got a lot of shit to do."

* * *

There is nothing but the stars hanging over their heads to guide them on their way home. Occasionally the Bodhi's lights flicker back to life, illuminating the highway for a few fleeting moments. The ominous glow of the city lights is at their backs and silence of the rural sprawl is spread out before them. Wade murmurs in his sleep. The cool night air rustles through Earline's wild hair as she leans against the passenger door. Trevor's not sure if she's still conscious anymore. The dark, rolling hills sweep by them like waves in an obsidian sea. It won't be long before the yellow foliage gives way to dry sand and prickly cacti.

He wasn't kidding when he warned her of the work ahead. He has ample funds to pay Lester and he knows Earline will be furious when she finds out. He refuses to hand this to her though. He doesn't want her to end up like Tracey. To avoid that happening she has to earn this for herself. She's already spoiled enough as it is; he can't have her getting used to that special treatment. Not if he wants her to become a contributing member of society's criminal underbelly. She needs to pull a heist. Trevor is certain Earline will live for the rush of that experience and she'll learn to do it the right fucking way. If Franklin pitches in, then maybe she'll learn how to be a decent getaway driver too.

He remembers being a punky little shit just like her. Full of piss and vinegar and dumber than a box of rocks. Trevor didn't have anyone to show him the ropes; he had to figure out for himself. That was until Michael came around. Look at how fucking far he's come since then. He can't imagine what she'll be like when she gets to this point. He'll be an old man by then. Even if they aren't screwing anymore, he can still picture himself bossing her around and her giving him the same old shit.

Ron will still be making that shitty coffee. Wade will probably be dead. Trevor can't imagine himself putting up with his stupidity for the rest of his fucking life. It's a vision that pleases him. Was it dreams like this that pushed Michael to fake his own death and run off into the sunset? Trevor shakes his head in disgust at that notion. He doesn't want to admit that their feelings are even remotely similar, that he could possibly begin to understand and sympathize with Michael's reasons for justifying his betrayal.

Earline shifts in her seat. He catches a glimpse of her face, her eyes are heavy from exhaustion and a soft smile is curling at the edges of her pink lips.

"I was just thinking," Earline says.

Trevor flashes his crooked grin.

"You gotta be careful doing that, it's dangerous," Trevor teases.

She slugs him in the shoulder but the gesture isn't filled with the usual fire that she possesses.

"It's funny, I mean, we all started off as strangers," Earline says. "Now I can't picture myself anywhere else."

Apparently her mind was wandering to the same places his was. Of course, she'd be thinking about her future lately. It's a subject that always comes up when the past comes storming through your front door.

"I had planned on killing you," Trevor admits.

He still thinks about slitting her throat on occasion. Mostly when she's being a snotty little twat.

"Do you regret not doing that?" Earline asks.

As much as he's thought about doing it, he doesn't regret staying his hand. As annoying, burdensome and exhausting as her presence is, he would relive every minute he's had with her.

"It was one of the best calls I've ever made," Trevor says. "You've yet to disappoint me."

She snickers, the wind whipping her curls around in a frenzy.

"So, if I disappoint you what happens?" Earline pries.

She already knows, she has to know the answer by now.

"I'd kill you," Trevor says.

Earline knows he's liable to do that but she thinks about how he couldn't kill Michael. Trevor told her how he had the pistol aimed right for Michael's head and he couldn't do it. Would he hesitate like that with her? He's murdered hundreds of people without a second thought. Shit, she doesn't even know if she even comes close to the place Trevor has in his heart for Michael. Earline ain't afraid to admit that scares her.

"I couldn't kill you," Earline says. "Not after all you done for me and someone would have to put a bullet in my head before I left your employ."

Kenny would've been happy here. He would've felt safe. Whatever shit he was running from, they all would've been able to fight it off. She wishes he hadn't popped up in her head yet again. If he had just told her what was going on, maybe he'd still be here. Maybe she would've been more prepared to deal with Woods.

"I miss him," Earline says.

Fuck, she mourned him once already. That wound had totally healed but it's like it's been ripped wide open all over again. That nasty stew of emotions comes back like a raging tidal wave. She starts to dig around in her coat pocket for her tin of dip. His hand brushes against the surface of Earline's thigh.

"Is it possible to miss someone and hate them at the same time?" Earline asks.

When she looks at him she can see that sadness flicker across his eyes. That same sadness that she's feeling right now. Fuck, he's been around for a lot longer than she has and he's still carrying a heap of baggage. There can't be much hope for her.

"Smashing things tends to make that feeling go away," Trevor says. "Violence is an excellent coping mechanism."

She can't really argue with him. Earline can't see herself doing art or writing fruity poetry to express her feelings. There's something deeply satisfying about the work she's been doing with Trevor. Yeah, it makes her a bit of psychopath but she don't rightly care.

"I just can't shake this feeling," Earline says. "I need to know why Woods went after him. It just don't seem right to me."

No matter how many times Michael explained his reasons to Trevor; it never seemed to help him. He still felt angry and bitter but at least their friendship was intact. Earline doesn't get the luxury of talking to Kenny. That little fucker is deader than a skunk. He still knows how important those answers are. He would've slipped further down the rabbit hole then he had ever gone before if he had to wait as long as she has for answers.

"Do what you need to do, kid," Trevor says. "I know you can get anything you want from this world. You're strong enough and smart enough to get anything you want."

Earline falls silent. She has a tendency to do that when he says nice things to her. It drives him up the fucking wall. He assumes she was told she was a piece of shit so many times in her life that she doesn't know how to handle a compliment.

"You can fucking say 'thank you', dumb ass," Trevor snaps.

"Thanks, Beer Can," Earline says. "I'm just fixing to do some nasty shit to you now that you said those pretty words to me."

Figures. Turning her on is as easy as flicking a light switch.

"Then suck me off," Trevor says. "I'm bored as fuck anyway. This night driving shit is awful."


End file.
